


History, Rewritten

by marvelfucker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, also i stole Adam McKinnon from TLAT, also stole Lathe from TLAT, but i definitely took liberties, most characters are referenced in the books somewhere, no beta we die like the potters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelfucker/pseuds/marvelfucker
Summary: James and Lily Potter survive Halloween. Now they just have to survive the rest of the War.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 110





	1. a moment to change the course of history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potters barely survive Halloween. The adventure begins.

Lily pushed herself up on her tiptoes, clutching a string of fairy lights in her hand, to loop the wire over the hook. Unfortunately, her ridiculously tall husband with his ridiculously long reach had set up the hook and, as Lily was _not_ ridiculously tall, she could not get to it properly. Grumbling mutinously, she tried to stretch even farther than her limbs would go, clenching her eyes as if the extra effort would afford her the last six inches.

A deep chuckle behind her was her only warning before a large hand plucked the lights from her grip. “Ten years of magic and you still go for the Muggle way.”

“Shut it, Potter; the Muggle way is superior.” She said, not unkindly as he strung them up without effort. “You put those damn hooks too high up intentionally, didn’t you?”

Kissing the junction between her neck and shoulder, she felt James smile. “I like to see you reach.”

“I’m sure that’s spousal abuse.” She replied, turning around to loop her arms around his waist. “I should report you to the Wizengamot.”

“Or,” Peering down at her through his glasses, he slowly stepped forward to push her back against the wall. He loved the way her hips pressed against his. Leaning down, her lips got closer and closer, “You could do the punishing right now.”

Something rustled outside among the din of Godric’s Hollow. Autumn was always so noisy, he thought, watching Lily’s soft green eyes glitter.

Her laughter startled him. He pouted when she said, “Not until Friday, Jim. Sirius promised to turn the music up and play with Harry.”

“Look at us, planning sex like adults.”

Hooking her fingers in his trousers, she pulled him closer for a kiss. As usual, his hand tangled in her long hair, threading through the strands casually as his other hand cradled her hip, thumb stroking at the skin under her shirt. It was James’ favorite way of kissing her. With her lovely hips and her lovely hair all under his hands, her body underneath his. Of course, Lily had meant this to be soft. He knew she only meant to kiss him for a moment or two before she would pull back to remind him that they had to wait until Sirius could distract Harry now that his boy had developed the ability to walk and open doors.

But _Merlin_ when she touched him it was like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth ached against hers and he didn’t care; he was ravenous. It was like that film she and Marlene made the lads watch where the main bloke starting going on about wanting to consume his bride, he loved her so. Sirius had thrown popcorn at the screen, complaining loudly while Remus explained how it was a _metaphor_ , Padfoot, he didn’t literally mean he wanted to cannibalize his wife; James wasn’t so sure. They had all laughed during the scene but James hadn’t.

He didn’t want to eat Lily but there was definitely something hungry in him when she was near. It had always been like that, even in school. She would walk into a classroom and he couldn’t resist bothering her just to see her eyes so bright, her mouth forming his last name, her cheeks flush, and her chest heave. He _loved_ it. Any scrap of attention she would feed him, he would take, and it would satisfy him until the next time.

Of course, it had changed when they started dating. There new, other ways in which he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to consume her, from her toes to her eyelashes to the top of her burning head. He wanted to crack open her skull and surround himself with that wild, wonderful mind. He wanted to live in her chest or have her live in his or stitch them together indelibly.

She was his best friend, the person he loved most in all the world.

(‘ _Sorry, Pads_.’ He thought distantly.)

There weren’t enough years in a lifetime, he thought. Not to be satisfied.

He bit her lip just the way she liked as his grip tightened in her hair, pushing against her.

“James,” She moaned against his mouth. “It’s not Friday.”

“Oh, fuck Friday,” He grunted, reaching down to hoist her thighs up so she could wrap her legs around him. Of course, she wouldn’t be Lily if she didn’t refuse to listen, keeping her feet firmly on the ground.

“We will.” She panted, pulling her mouth away from his. “Now get off.”

“Mate, I’m _trying_.” James groaned bitterly. But still, he pulled back, leaning on the wall beside her, hoping he didn’t look as much a mess as he felt. She was right, damn her. After several deep breaths, he got himself under control.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days.” Lily told him, her laugh low and husky.

“Now there’s the wand calling the broom wood.” James replied, grinning. “I can’t believe I traded my raid rotation with Peter – I would have been home by now and Remus would have been a good sport.”

Lily laughed. “Don’t blame Peter for your mistake, Jim. Besides, you got to spend the night here with us on Halloween – your son’s first Halloween where he knows what’s going on.”

From the crib, Harry’s head popped up having heard his mum say his name.

“Mama, Dada,” He said, reaching his little hands up in a silent plea. James was the first off of the wall.

“My boy!” He bounded over to the crib and scooped their giggling son up in his arms. Harry squealed in joy as James tossed him up in the air. Lily watched them for a moment, toying with her hair as she beamed.

As she made her way to the kitchen for Harry’s dinner, James fell back onto the couch, bouncing Harry in his lap and making silly faces.

James looked every inch the proud father that he was. “Look at you, you lovely thing. Got your mummy’s eyes and everything but don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to maintain that hair. You’ll be a lady-killer before you know it.”

“James,” Lily laughed, appearing in the doorway with an apple and a knife for a moment to say, “ _You_ can’t even control your hair!”

Her husband ignored her. “Don’t listen to the bad woman, sweetheart. I’ll teach you all about your hair.” His voice dropped into a reverent whisper, “I’ll teach you everything.”

Harry reached up for his glasses in response. Lily came back out, holding her arms out for her son. She cooed, “Time for dinner, little Prawn.”

“Prawn!” Harry cheered. James winced, hoping the nickname from Harry’s early attempts to say ‘Prongs’ would vanish by the time Harry was going off to Hogwarts. It wouldn’t do wonders for Harry’s image to be called ‘Prawn’ – even by legends like the Marauders. Merlin only knew how many fights Harry would get in defending his nickname; it would be a repeat of Fleamont Potter’s Hogwarts experience.

As usual, James felt a small pang at thinking of his father. He would have liked to watch Harry grow into a fine young man. Still, it would have to be enough to know both his father and his mother would be proud of their grandson no matter his nickname.

James handed his giggling boy over. “You know, I can feed him.”

“That’s fine, love, but you have to do it in the kitchen.” Lily’s said, hoisting Harry on her hip. “I don’t want to be cleaning apple pieces out of the couch later tonight.”

“That was one time!”

“That was last week, Jim. And don’t raise your voice – you’ll scare Harry.”

It was a testament to how much they’d grown that James only grinned. “You’re just sore we didn’t let you in on our contest.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, then why?”

“A completely unrelated reason.”

James laughed.

“You’re good at it. That’s why you couldn’t join, Lil.” James stood up, kissing her quickly. Harry squealed happily between them. James smiled, using a finger to hold Harry’s small hand. “It’s no fun when you know who’s gonna win.”

“Bastard.”

The rustling sounded again, raising the hairs on James’ arm. They were safe, he told himself. He was just being paranoid. If something had happened to Peter, they would have been told. They would have been the _first_ to be told.

Everything was f—

The door swung open carrying a cold wind and chilling laugh.

—ucked.

James pushed Lily behind him, heart thundering in his ears as the shape of Voldemort filled the doorway.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off —”

In shades of black, he all but blended into the night sky behind him; yet somehow all James could see was red, red eyes. Lily screamed something but James couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t tell if the pounding in his head were Lily’s footsteps running up the stairs or his heart.

A jet of green light came crashing towards him and he was going to die, he was going to die, die, die, die, die—

 _—protect Lily, protect Harry, protect Lily, protect Harry, I love Lily, I love Harry, I love Sirius, I love Harry, I love Lily, I love Remus, I love Peter, oh Merlin_ Peter _he must’ve killed Peter, protect Lily, protect Harry, I love my family, I LOVE LILY, I LOVE HARRY, I LOVE LI—_

“JAMES!” Lily screamed, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back. She hadn’t run upstairs. It must’ve been his heart. The light just barely missed his hand as he fell back towards his wife. James scrambled to his feet as Voldemort raised his wand again but Lily was still pulling him towards the back of the house.

He tried to push her ahead; if she could make it out back then maybe her and Harry would live. All he had to do was face Voldemort for a few measly seconds, just buy them enough time, and he would die but that was okay, because they would be alive. His Lily and his Harry and his _family_ and all he had to do was die.

(War had taught him how easy that was.)

“Not without you!” She shrieked, still pulling him. “Not without _you_!”

There wasn’t time to argue as James pulled the tables in the hallways down behind him, trying to at least make it harder for Voldemort to follow them. Jets of green light blazed behind them but it was Voldemort’s high laugh that terrified James most. At some point his hand had found Lily’s and it ached with how hard he was holding it, with how white her knuckles were.

If only he had his fucking _wand_.

Their scattered running pattern wouldn’t stop Voldemort long, especially with the narrow hallway coming up, James realized. Godric’s Hollow had a fairly open concept except for the narrow path out to the back garden, through which James knew they couldn’t continue this dodging. They would be lined up like ducks for the slaughter.

“Evans, you have to go alone!” He yelled.

“Shut _up_ , Potter!” She screamed, Harry’s green eyes staring over her shoulder, wide with tears. James had no clue how she was holding Harry and his hand and still had the energy to yell at him except that it was his Lily. Always the overachiever.

“ _Reducto_ ,” The ceiling above them collapsed. James barely had time to cover Lily and Harry as rubble rained down. Dust and smoke filled his lungs but nothing felt broken, only bruised. Voldemort called out to them, taunting their feeble attempts at escaping. Lily pushed out from under him, trying to continue dragging him. Harry was squalling now but they kept running.

 _I can’t let you die_ , James thought. His lungs burned.

The hallway was getting narrower and James made a small prayer to whoever was listening that his family would live as he wrenched his hand from Lily’s. He turned to face Voldemort, trying to think of all of Remus’ terrible insults for that ‘snake-faced, terrible-smelling psychopath with a frankly stupid moniker I mean honestly, Prongs, _Sirius_ could come up with a better name and he’s named that motorbike _Helen_ ’ and Lily’s eyes and his son’s laugh to keep from being completely paralyzed in fear.

 _I can’t let you die_.

Lily yelled his name again but he didn’t look back as he picked up a broken shard of a table. Lily had explained Muggle baseball to them one night (an eternity ago); naturally, Sirius wanted to play a full game – “Harry can be referee!” “He’s ten-months-old, Padfoot.” “Obviously we’ll wait until he’s two.” – but he supposed he’d have to make do with Voldemort’s head as a baseball instead of an actual one. It was certainly round and white enough. He almost laughed.

 _I can’t let you die_.

Then he was moving. Not forward, like he’d been planning, nor backward from a spell. No, he was moving _sideways_. For a second, he imagined Voldemort moving him aside like a ragdoll – as if he wasn’t worth killing – and felt completely powerless to save his family after all; imagining a world where he would be forced to watch them die. He wouldn’t survive it.

 _I can’t let you die_.

It was only the flash of red hair in front of his eyes before the sudden darkness of their broom closet that made him realize it was Lily that had pulled him. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was daft or suicidal because she had to run, she had to _run_ , this was a death sentence being in this broom closet. Voldemort’s mocking voice only got nearer.

“Hiding will not protect you, you fools.”

But Lily was scurrying up against James, pushing herself up with the arm not holding Harry and kneeing him gently, urging him to give her a bloody boost already. Dumbfounded and about ready to start laughing out of sheer terror, James gave her the boost. Harry wailed by his ear, uncomfortably smooshed between his mother’s arms and his father’s chest but Lily didn’t stop reaching.

The door opened on James with one arm around his wife’s waist and his hand under her foot with her knee digging into his sternum as she held her son with one arm and her back to Voldemort whose face seemed torn between mocking them and curious. Nevertheless, he raised his wand again, this time pointed directly at Harry’s red face.

 _NO, NOT HARRY,_ James couldn’t scream. _NOT HARRY NOT HARRY PLEASE NOT MY SON TAKE ME TAKE ME_ —

“ _Avada_ —”

James felt something hook in his navel and the broom closet turned blurry. He held tighter to Lily wondering if this is what death felt like: like spinning into the afterlife. It wasn’t until he started to smell pine that he realized he’d closed his eyes. Light shone brilliantly down on him when he opened them; it blinded him slightly.

Then he heard Harry’s crying and he very nearly cried himself. Lily was on top of him, face down into the dirt, with Harry still between them. His wife jumped off of him, cooing at their son, murmuring apologies against his head for squishing him between heaving sobs. James drank in the sight of them for a while, both red-faced and weeping, before he swung in to wrap them both in a hug, light-headed with relief. They stayed like that until Harry’s breathing slowed between them and Lily was sagging against him, exhausted.

“Where the hell are we?” He asked. It seemed to be the edges of a beach somewhere because he could hear the ocean lapping at the shore, but around them were barren trees so densely packed he couldn’t make out from which direction the sound was coming.

“The Cottage.” Lily murmured. “We’re at the Cottage.”

“ _How_?” James asked, burying his face in her hair and breathing. The whole world was silent around them; so quiet that James wasn’t yet convinced they weren’t dead. It felt fantastical to be alive, here, with his wife and his son, _safe_. His body was vibrating with energy and paranoia – the flickering light in the back of his head reminding him that he still didn’t have his wand.

The Cottage may have fallen into disrepair over the decades but it wasn’t unknown in these parts.

 _Don’t be an idiot, Potter_. He reminded himself. _You’re not safe yet_.

“Portkey.” Lily explained, trembling. “I made one of Harry’s old blankets a Portkey to the Cottage. Just in case.”

 _That’s why she pushed me in the closet_ , James thought, eyeing the small blue fabric lying only a few feet from them. _That’s why she wouldn’t let me throw anything out._

James pulled her even closer though it felt impossible, using one large hand to cradle the back of his son’s now-sleeping head. Lily turned her head to him and he kissed every inch of skin he could reach. Lily was still crying against him in quiet, steady rivulets.

“You brilliant woman,” He babbled, unable to stop kissing her. “You wonderful, brilliant woman how did I get so lucky? I’m the luckiest sod in the world, the absolute luckiest; you’re bloody _brilliant_.”

Lily choked something like a laugh out. “Took you long enough to figure out, Potter.”

“I can’t even—how did you figure it out? The Fidelius doesn’t allow for Apparition.”

“A Portkey isn’t Apparition, is it? I just found a loophole in the Charm: a one-time, one-way Portkey.”

“One-time?”

Lily took a shuddering breath, “James, love, I would really love to explain this to you but—”

“You’re right,” said James, helping her to her feet. “We need to move. I don’t know where the Cottage is from here, but we should get there.”

“Let’s just Apparate to Sirius’ apartment.” Lily suggested.

James shook his head. “We don’t know what’s happened to him, love. Death Eaters could be staking out his and Remus’ place.”

Lily seemed to realize something, going even whiter. “Oh, Merlin, James – _Peter_.”

“I know.” Hooking his arm over her shoulder, James pulled her closer to his side, staring through the forest blankly as Lily squeezed out a few more tears. There was no telling what they’d put Peter through. Tortured screams echoed in James’s skull; he wondered if Peter resented them for making him Secret Keeper, at the end.

He vowed revenge, just then. They would pay for what they put his mate through.

But right now, he had to get his family to the Cottage.

It was the safest place until they could figure out what to do next. Of course, nowhere was really safe – they’d known that since the beginning – but James hadn’t felt it so acutely until then, with his house turned to so much rubble, his best mate dead, and his family very nearly lost.


	2. dead men walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief stuns the Order, who learns that betrayal comes from the unlikeliest places.

.

Remus held James’ wand in his shaking hands, staring at the wreckage that he’d considered home. As much of a home as a monster like him could’ve hoped to have, at least; and now it was gone. Along with the people inside of it. His heart collapsed to his stomach like a stone as a pool of tears built behind his eyes.

 _James_ , he thought wrenchingly of his best mate. It was almost incomprehensible that James could be dead. There had been deaths in this war, people Remus knew and liked, but this was James with his wiry hair and terrible puns. This was _James_ : wild, reckless, immortal James.

James and his family.

All gone.

“I thought the Fidelius was supposed to protect them, yeah?” Lathe offered, kicking a chunk of rubble.

Kingsley frowned, “We don’t know if they’re dead. There are no bodies.”

“Would there be bodies, though? You-Know-Who was after them, he probably turned them to pieces.”

“Lathe, shut the hell up. These were Lupin’s mates and you’re being a dick.”

Lathe seemed to only just notice Remus’ stock-still frame. He reached out to his shoulder with an apologetic pat, offering a weak ‘ _who knows, lupin? maybe they made it out_ ’.

Remus didn’t take his eyes off of the pram slammed against the wall. His voice was low, “You can’t Disapparate out of a Fidelius Charm, Lathe.”

“Seems like a design flaw.” Lathe said thoughtfully.

Kingsley’s tone was far more patient than Remus would have been. “Wouldn’t be a very protective spell if people could pop in and out willy-nilly.”

Lathe started back up the stairs for a final sweep, “You’d think it would have a loophole for them, though. Their Secret Keeper too, I guess. Y’know, just the people that it’s tied to.”

Remus suddenly lurched. How could he have been so _stupid_? “Sirius.”

“What about Black?” Lathe cocked his head.

“Sirius was their Secret Keeper.” Remus said weakly. “Sirius was…”

Kingsley looked over at him, suddenly on high alert. His voice wasn’t accusatory but it certainly wasn’t passive, “But Black is back at HQ.”

Remus thought of Sirius’ furious face when Dumbledore told him that he couldn’t go on the Godric’s Hollow mission. His raging and stomping, the hole in the wall in the shape of his fist. A piece of him wanted to deny that Sirius would betray James and Lily – he loved them too much. But Sirius had proven before that he had no problem using his friends to do his dirty work.

(“ _You tried to_ use _me to kill Snape!_ _Do you have any idea what could have happened if I’d killed him? Do you know what they do to werewolves that kill people?”_ )

Sirius had loved them, for a time maybe. He had said he thought of Remus as his brother and then tried to sell him up the river. Maybe once he’d loved Regulus the way he said he loved James.

(“ _Fucking Reg. Fine. If he doesn’t want my protection, he won’t have it. Let him grow up to be like dear old dad; who gives a hippogryff’s feathered arse? Next time, Moony, don’t hold back on my account.”_ )

The sound of a motorbike behind him brought him back. Sirius was clambering off of his bike and bursting into the wreckage, screaming ‘PRONGS’ at the top of his lungs. He caught sight of Remus standing there, holding a familiar wand in his hands, and stumbled to his knees. His grey eyes met Remus’.

“Moony,” He begged weakly. “Moony, it can’t be true—it can’t be—are they? All of them?”

Remus walked towards him, Kingsley and Lathe watching carefully as the Remus knelt in front of Sirius. They stared at each other for a beat before Remus launched himself. He grabbed Sirius’ collar and threw him to the ground, sitting on his chest as he landed blow by blow. Sirius struggled vainly beneath Remus’ weight.

“YOU,” Punch. “WERE,” Punch. “SUPPOSED,” Punch. “TO PROTECT THEM.”

“What the fuck, Lupin?” Sirius gasped, blood smearing across his mouth and still crying. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“No!” Remus snarled, gathering Sirius’ collar in his bloody hands. “You fucking sold them out, didn’t you?”

“NEVER,” Sirius spat. “They were my fucking family!”

“You expect me to believe that after all that shit with your brother?”

“ _James_ is my brother; I would _never_ sell them out – I’d rather _die_.”

“You’re a fucking liar! A _traitor_!”

Something familiar settled in Sirius’ eyes; Remus had seen that look before. It was like fourteen-year-old Sirius all over again, with all that awful, Black instinct.

“Tell me, Lupin: aren’t werewolves joining up with Voldemort by the wagon-load? Whose hand is holding your leash lately?”

Fury like Remus had never known rose up within him. “Strong words coming from a fucking Black. I bet your mum promised you a seat at the table if you behaved like a good Death Eater. The whole sodding family, together again.”

Sirius bucked then, throwing Remus off of him and drawing his wand. The end of it dug into Remus’ throat, just below his chin, but Remus wasn’t afraid. His own wand was pointed at Sirius’ heart. Standing there, in the destruction of their makeshift family’s home, they stood ready to kill each other.

Kingsley fingered his wand, watching like a hawk. Lathe already had his pointed at Sirius.

“Why did you do it?” Remus demanded, unable to stop the tears. “They _loved_ you. We all did.”

“I didn’t betray them! I wasn’t even their bloody Secret Keeper.” Sirius snapped, something resolved in his eyes that Remus couldn’t decipher. “I couldn’t have told if I wanted to and I _never_ would have.”

He didn’t lower his wand. “Liar! Of course you were! They would’ve _only_ chosen you!”

“No,” Sirius shook his head. “No, I thought it would obvious. I convinced them to go with someone else. To go with Peter.”

“Prove it!” Remus snarled.

Sirius dropped his wand. “We don’t have fucking _time_ , Lupin! Peter might be in danger.”

“ _No_ ,” Remus dug his wand in deeper. “Prove it to me, right fucking now!”

Sirius screamed in frustration before saying, “I _can’t_ , you absolute cock. I fucking _can’t_. We don’t have Verituserum and we don’t have fucking time for you to get it. You just have to trust me.”

“I don’t.” Remus replied. “I don’t trust you.”

“Fine,” Sirius snapped, his voice breaking. “But I’m going to check on Peter.”

Remus laughed bitterly. “You think we’re just going to let you leave? Give you the chance to go and report to your master?”

“Then fucking come with me.” Sirius spat. “But I’m _going_.”

Then, to Kingsley, “Shack! Take my motorbike and meet us at Peter’s place – we’ll Apparate.”

Kingsley looked to Remus who said, “He’ll side-along with me and I’ll make sure we go to Peter’s place together.”

Lathe, with his wand still level with Sirius’ head, said, “We should Apparate with you.”

“I can only side-along with one person and neither of you have been there enough to Apparate.” Remus said, fully aware of the holes in his plan. “You’ll have to take the bike.”

“And if someone is waiting?”

Remus thought of three gravestones each bearing the name _Potter_ and imagined one beside it reading _Lupin_. It was not a wholly unpleasant image.

“Then you know he’s a fucking traitor.”

Grabbing Sirius’ shoulder, he thought of Peter’s small, cramped house just on the outskirts of Tutshill. The familiar choking feeling surrounded them for a split second before subsiding as Peter’s cottage appeared.

Sirius looked green around the gills (he was never particularly tolerant of Apparition – which may have been part of the reason he bought the motorbike in the first place). He bent down, putting his hands on his knees, as he breathed slowly. Remus watched him carefully.

In his heart of hearts, it stung to know Sirius thought he would betray their friends because he was a werewolf. He’d always suspected that they didn’t fully trust him because of what he was, but to have confirmation?

The casualties of this war were beginning to take a toll on him.

“Let’s go, Lupin.” Sirius said, not looking at him.

“You first.”

Sirius kicked in the door. Remus yelled for Peter while Sirius began searching the other rooms, making sure to keep a weather eye out for any foul play.

A shaking Peter appeared in the doorway, “R-Remus!”

Remus wasn’t surprised Peter didn’t call for Sirius. Despite his combat boots, Sirius had always been particularly light on his feet. Padfoot, indeed. If Remus couldn’t smell the horrific stench of Sirius’ cologne poisoning the air, he might’ve thought Sirius wasn’t in the house at all.

“Pete,” Relief swam through him. Peter was alive; that meant he _couldn’t_ have been the Secret Keeper otherwise Voldemort would have taken him. It had to have been Sirius. His grip on his wand tightened as he readied himself to take down his former mate.

Except, as he turned to tell Peter to get ready, a thread of doubt coiling around his chest. Peter’s face was drawn carefully closed; his mate never had a good poker face; it was one of the charming things about Peter that made Remus love him so dearly.

Cautiously, Remus continued, “Harry, James, and Lily are dead.”

“ _No_ ,” Peter’s face crumpled and he sagged against the doorframe. But there was something off about it, Remus thought. The despair seemed genuine, but it did not feel like shocked horror, it did not feel like Sirius sinking to his knees among the rubble looking as though he’d lost his entire world. It felt as though Remus had confirmed something Peter had already known.

It still felt like the poker face.

“S-Sirius was their Secret Keeper,” Peter’s watery eyes looked up at him beseechingly. “He’s done it, Moony. His family finally got their claws in him and he’s _betrayed_ them!”

He hedged a bet, “Pete, we have to go. We’re both in danger if Sirius finds us; Kingsley and Lathe are in charge of clean-up and investigation but they don’t know where it is. You’ll have to write down the address and we’ll give it to them at HQ.”

Peter nodded, rushing hurriedly back to his kitchen for a moment before re-emerging with Godric’s Hollow’s address on a spare piece of parchment. The world spiraled down to that piece of paper.

“You just wrote that?” He asked softly.

Peter blinked, “Of course. You just told me to.”

That was it then. This was what the war had done to them: he and Sirius at each other’s throats, the Potters dead in their home, and Peter a traitor. The irony was that James might have forgiven him. James, with his heart forever on his sleeve, might have pitied how scared Peter was.

It would be fitting, Remus thought, that one day Peter will realize what he’s done. That this horrific act will sit in his chest like a stone and the one person who could have forgiven him is the one he killed.

“Oh, Pete,” Remus sighed, reaching for his wand and shooting a fast Full Body-Bind at his former friend. Peter’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body went rigid, swaying where he stood before falling flat on his face, stiff as a board. Peter’s jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at him in horror.

Remus called. “Sirius – you can come out. I know it wasn’t you.”

Sirius’ eyes were molten as he came in, the weight of his boots barely a whisper against the floor. “He killed them.”

“Yes, he did.” Peering down at Peter, Remus’ voice was ice. “You should have listened to Dumbledore when he was explaining the Charm, Peter. _Only_ the Secret Keeper can write down the location. If Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, you wouldn’t have been able to write it at all unless _Sirius_ died. The death of the protectees doesn’t change anything.”

At seeing Sirius, Peter’s eyes began moving even faster. It was clear he knew the charade was up. Outside, the familiar sounds of a motorbike landing prevented Sirius from doing anything Remus knew he would probably never regret; like killing Peter. Something even Remus was tempted to do.

Sirius hoisted Peter up by the scruff of his sweater. His wand was at Peter’s throat. Then in a voice so soft Remus almost missed it, Sirius said, “You’re going to pay for taking them away.”

Before Sirius could commit a murder he wasn’t ready for, Remus stepped behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“If he’s dead before we can take him in, the world will think it was you.” He reminded his friend. “My word will do no good.”

“I don’t care,” Sirius roared. “They can haul me away if they want but he is going to _pay_.”

“He will.” Remus assured him. “He will pay; there’s no need for you to pay too. I won’t lose everyone in one night, Sirius. I refuse to.”

Beneath his hand, Sirius’ back heaved. Grief had given way to fury and Remus knew enough of his friend to know there was no stopping it. Where Remus kept his agony in his throat, clamped down on it so hard his teeth _ached_ , Sirius burned the world down around him with it.

Peter apparently kept his grief in a knife he used to bury in the backs of his friends.

“I’m, uh,” Pride was bitter to swallow. Remus clenched his hand. “I’m sorry I said all that shit about you. About your family. I know you’re not like them.”

Sirius looked back to him and said, “I’m sorry about the shit I said too. You know your furry little problem means nothing to me.”

“Forgive me?”

“Already done. Now, d’you think we have time to at least maim him?” Things were still aching between them; the apologies merely chloraseptic on an open wound. But still Remus felt the knot in his chest give just a little.

“If you hadn’t had a Hallmark moment, maybe.” Lathe said, a shadow moving in plain sight. “But you just had to be a bunch of birds about this.”

Kingsley frowned. Remus wondered vaguely if Kingsley ever smiled or if his face had been petrified in the same two features: disappointment and vague interest. Either way, he wore the former now and when he spoke he sounded as if he was the only adult in a room full of children.

“We should bring him back to HQ and interrogate him.”

“Or,” Sirius suggested with a feral grin. “We interrogate him here, then kill him and leave his body somewhere for his Death Eater mates to find – y’know, like a warning? I’ll do the dirty work, so no need to worry about that, Shack.”

Peter could not squeak in fear but Remus heard it anyway. Was this how Lily felt after Snape? All this useless knowledge: Peter’s morning habits, his ideal ratio of jam to toast, his hidden Celestina Warbeck records, the way he always folded his papers inside his books before leaving class. It hurt.

But then, thinking of Lily hurt too now.

“Let’s just take him in, Padfoot.” James would want that, he didn’t say. But he knew if he stopped thinking of what James would have done, he would succumb to his base instinct: rend Peter limb from limb. “There are plenty of ways to get revenge for Prongs, Lily, and Harry.”

Lathe and Remus hoisted Peter up by the arms. As they carried him out, Sirius could be heard muttering behind them.

“I’ll side-along,” Kingsley said. “Remus, you come with me. Lathe, you and Black can meet us back on that death trap.”

Remus looked once more at Sirius’ mutinous face and disappeared with a _crack_.

.

The wood of the doorway broke loudly as James kicked at it. After a few blows, the door swung open with a clatter. The whole of the room was dust, the furniture all covered in white sheets, and Merlin knew what other animals had made a home of this place while they were gone. Lily used the hem of her shirt to protect Harry’s face from the dust as they made their way through the house.

Nothing had changed since the last time they were there, not even the scorch stain on the countertop where Lily had burnt the food. Euphemia had laughed as Lily apologized profusely for ruining the marble.

(“My darling girl, we’re magical. If we really want, we can simply charm it away; besides, I think it gives it character!”

“Is this the same Euphemia that scolded me for a month for spilling my pint on the chaise? Lily, what have you done with my wife?”

“Oh, hush, Fleamont. Lily is far more charming than you are. And that chaise was an heirloom!”

“ _Jaan_ , every piece of furniture in this house is an heirloom.”

“You’d think you’d be more careful then.”)

James pulled a long white sheet from the couch, causing a wave of dust to wash over them. Harry coughed under the cloth. James let out a sneeze that could have woken the dead. For her part, Lily’s eyes watered but that might have been from stress, still.

“We’ll need food,” Lily said once the dust settled. “Harry will be waking up soon and he’ll be hungry.”

James nodded. “There’s a shop in the nearby town but it’s an hour walk.”

“I don’t want to be away from you for that long.” Lily said quietly. “And I’m not sure the town is safe for us all to go looking like we do.”

“If I had my wand I could cast a Glamour on us.” James muttered. Something sparked. “Oh! Blimey, wait, I’d forgotten.”

“What?”

“This is the Cottage, Lil.” James said with a half-smile. “Dad’s got a thousand and one extra wands here.”

Lily remembered Fleamont’s collection of wands he’d collected over his years of being an Auror. He was always locked up in his study with them; it drove Euphemia crazy. “I thought those were moved back to the Auror Department?”

“Yeah, the ones he was working on were, but dad was always losing or breaking wands so mum made him have extras at every house.”

“That doesn’t feel particularly safe with a small child around. Or in the middle of a war.” Lily observed, thinking quietly about how having a boy like James would only make it _more_ dangerous.

James shrugged. “I guess they thought it was better to run the risk of having extras than somehow ending up unarmed. The point is: this works in our favor for now. I think they’re still upstairs below the floorboard of the study.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Lily, “I’d like a wand too.”

James offered her his hand, relishing the feeling of her pulse beating against his. Lily stared at their joined hands for a long while before meeting his eyes. Slowly, they met for a kiss.

“I keep thinking this is a dream.” He whispered against her lips. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up having lost you both.”

“Next time, don’t try and be a hero.” Lily responded. “When I say ‘not without you’, I mean not without you.”

James smiled. “Want me to take Harry? Your arms must be tired.”

“They are,” Lily confessed. “But I’m not sure I can let him go.”

Asleep as he was, Harry barely made a noise as James reached out and pulled him from Lily’s arms. “Don’t hog him, Red. Let his dear old dad have him for a bit.”

Lily’s laughter was weak. In the back of his head James imagined a dark, desolate place where he would never hear that sound again. A world where he would have lost Lily if she hadn’t been so smart.

Then she said, “I think this is why I married you.”

“Because you knew you’d end up running for your life?” James asked, settling Harry in the crook of his arm. “Pretty bleak outlook on this marriage, love.”

Moss-green eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Don’t be a twat; I mean, I married you because even after all of this…you make me laugh.”

“I love you too.”

Fleamont’s collection of wands was certainly impressive, each made of holly with a unicorn heartstring core, yet they all felt slightly different in Lily’s hand. James tossed them to her one at a time until she held one that tingled warmly in her palm.

“This is the one,” said Lily. It didn’t feel as good her 10 ¼” willow but it would do for a simple Glamour and basic defense. James tried a few out for himself until he settled on one, twirling it casually between his fingers.

Waving the wand, Lily changed her hair to a short, blonde pixie cut and her eyes a deep blue. Just for kicks, she got rid of her freckles and gave herself an even tan.

“You sort of look like McKinnon.” James said. “I don’t like it.”

Lily waved her wand again giving James a buzzed head, white skin, soft grey eyes, and a tattoo sleeve of flowers. “There, now you sort of look like Sirius. I don’t like it either.”

“Great, now we’re a married couple imitating two people that couldn’t make it past a week of dating.”

“It’s a parody.”

“Padfoot would never cut his hair.” James’ chest ached at the thought of his friend. “I should send a Patronus to tell them we’re okay, they’ve probably found the house by now.”

Lily shook her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We have to get word to them soon, Lil.” James frowned. It looked strange on his new face. She missed his deep, brown skin and messy hair already. “They’ll think we’re dead.”

“I know, I know.” Dorcas was probably sick with grief but she couldn’t risk the Patronus bringing the Death Eaters here. “In a few days we’ll try to head towards London. Dorcas has family there; I’ll see if they can’t get word to her.”

Her husband sighed. “Fine. Let’s just head to the shop now, before it closes.”

“We could Apparate. I’ll side-along with you since you know where you’re going.”

“Could Harry handle that? Portkeys are hard enough on kids, let alone Apparition.”

Lily sighed, looking at her sleeping son. This night had to have been so hard on him already. “I suppose it’s probably best to just walk. I just don’t like being in the open.”

“I know, but that’s why we’ve got the Glamour.”

“Oh bugger, wait, I have to do Harry, too.” With a flick of her wrist, Harry’s hair was blond and his skin lightened to match hers. “That should do for now.”

“Any particular reason you’ve made me and my boy white, love? And did you have to give me tattoos?”

“Don’t be daft. Muggles are still strange about Indians in England and I didn’t want them calling Muggle police on us, but having tattoos might make them think you’re a punk and leave us alone.”

“Or they’ll call the Muggle cops on us anyway because I look like a bloody menace.”

“I didn’t know you were so against tattoos. Sirius will be heartbroken.”

“I’m not, I just don’t want them. Or, at least, not a sleeve like this. Terrence McNally got one and it looks bloody awful.”

“So judgmental.”

“It’s a fucking dragon eating a unicorn surrounded by strange clocks.”

“That is mental.”

“See?”

“At least I’ve made yours flowers.”

“Small blessings, love.”

.

Remus was at a loss for what to do when Dorcas collapsed into his arms.

Across the room, Marlene was sobbing into Ally’s chest, fingers tangled in her robes.

Sirius remained in the corner, staring at the floor with arson in his eyes.

Each of these he was expecting.

But Dorcas, terrifyingly, was not crying – she remained stock-still in Remus’ arms, staring vacantly at her hands as if blaming them for not being more useful. Her legs weren’t particularly useful either, Remus noted, as they had given way entirely bringing both of them to the floor.

Ally’s face was crumpled into Marlene’s hair, shaking furiously but soundlessly. It was funny what fast friends war made of people. Separated by a year in school, Ally and Lily should never have crossed paths. Lily was a Charms expert; Ally’s expertise was in Ancient Runes. But war had called Ally to Aurordom and paired her with James (much to Sirius’ chagrin – and secret blessing, Remus thought). The two worked seamlessly together and that had stitched her to the Potters irrevocably.

And now, here she was, on the floor, trying to keep from coming undone.

Her trembling dragged Sirius from his corner to sit beside her. Desperately, she leaned against his shoulder, Marlene still clutching her, and cried quietly. Remus wished he could be more help to his friends. Leaving Ally and Sirius in places of deep, drowning emotion was never good. Particularly rage and sorrow, for which neither of them was emotionally prepared to deal with.

In the room down the hall, Dumbledore was interrogating Peter with the aid of Ashley Pava – Sirius’ former partner in the Auror Department as a Memory Expert. Her skills with Obliviate, memory alteration, and extraction were unrivaled which tended to make people in the Order wary around her. Remus wasn’t particularly afraid of her but he wasn’t going to fall asleep near her any time soon.

The only people that didn’t seem to care about Ash’s line of work were Dumbledore, Sirius, Ally, James, Lily, and Shannon – the resident Healer, who disliked very few people and perhaps had a heart of literal gold.

Sirius, for obvious reasons. Remus imagined it would be very difficult to work with someone whom you did not trust. As far as he knew, Ally and Shannon were Ash’s best friends from Hogwarts which was strange because Remus had spent plenty of time around Ally and Shannon but had never once met Ash. Something he found slightly worrying considering her job and Ally having once describing the three of them as “literally almost always together”.

“D-Did any pictures survive at least?” Marlene choked out, pulling away from Ally to wipe at her eyes uselessly. “Anything except the Order one?”

“The house was turned to rubble, Marlene.” Remus said softly.

Ally sniffled. “What about the Cottage? Monty and Euphemia must’ve had a picture there of them and…”

As hard as it was to think of James and Lily, the thought of little Harry being gone choked all of them. Each of them had claimed part of the boy as their own – Aunts and Uncles, one and all – and his loss stung deeper than anything else. Sirius’ face crumpled briefly, a quiet gasping sob escaping him.

With Marlene out of her arms, Ally turned to hug Sirius. He clung to her, bunching her shirt up in his hands as he half-cried, half-laughed into her shoulder. As a nervous reflex, it was fairly disturbing and always had been. Remus remembered when Sirius had received his first Howler from home; he’d laughed all the way through it before disappearing for six hours.

Now, in the wake of tragedy, it just felt perverse.

“I’ll check the Cottage.” Dorcas stood suddenly. Her eyes were glassy but her mouth was a grim line.

Remus put his hand on hers. “I’ll go with you. Can’t be too sure these days.”

Ally turned her head to glance at them. “Sirius and I will go too. Just…give him a minute.”

“The interrogation.” Sirius choked out. “I have to stay, they’re still in the…”

His voice died again with another half-cackle, half-sob. Ally held him tighter, putting a hand on his cheek, stroking gently. She was murmuring something quiet to him, something that made him nod quietly against her.

They all looked over to Marlene.

Marlene shook her head. “I can’t, guys. I just…not yet. I can’t. I’ll keep watch for the interrogation, but I…”

“We understand.” Dorcas said firmly, daring anyone to challenge her. “We’ll bring back the photos.”

Sirius gathered himself together once more, pushing out of Ally’s arms to stand up. She watched him from the floor, something unknowable in her eyes. Grabbing his offered hand, she pulled herself up and brushed the dirt from her trousers.

“Let’s go, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, i've been fucking around with the format; i broke up the first chapter because i realized i made it way too long and no other chapter is going to be that long, probably. sorry!


	3. some things refuse to be destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Lily learn of betrayal. The Order learns of James and Lily.

.

Maria Sartre had lived in her village for all of her eighty-three years. She’d seen the German invasion and lived in fear of another; she’d lived through the Englishmen eyeing her with distaste, a Frenchwoman living alone in their small (and small-minded) town; she’d survived pox and polio as a child, tuberculosis as an adult, and was currently surviving a broken ankle as an old woman. She was, it would appear, a hard woman to kill.

Over time, her defense mechanism for each of these was to memorize the faces of all newcomers to their town. It was a skill she did not like to have, _non_ , but one that was necessary. This was not a tourist town and new faces meant danger. Her small grocery shop gave her the perfect opportunity, as well. Everyone needed food and it was usually the first stop for new people.

This couple was certainly no different. Maria had never seen them before and while their clothing was certainly normal – a jumper and trousers for the man, a turtleneck and bell-bottoms for the woman, and overalls for the small tyke in the man’s arms – they carried with them an unease that Maria did not like.

It reminded her of when the Germans would march people out of town; each of the people in the large parade had worn identical looks of paranoia and matchings stars. As if they knew something was coming but could not tell when it would arrive, or as if it had arrived already and would only get worse.

The man seemed confused at the shop, pointing quietly at things while the woman patiently answered each one. They gathered their things quickly, the woman constantly scanning the store as they walked, like she was waiting for something to jump out from behind the soup shelf.

“Your son is very well behaved.” She says as they approach the counter. “’e ‘as not cried once – this is a very rare skill.”

The woman smiled kindly but it looked strange to Maria. As if the smile was meant for a different face. “Thank you.”

“Are you new to town?”

“We’re just stopping through.” The man said, dragging his arm around his wife. “Had to pick up some food for little Har—Harriet.”

“Oh!” Maria’s face turned red. That explained the smile. “ _Mon Dieu_ , I am so sorry – I assumed she was a boy!”

The man winced at her poor manners but his wife looked to be close to laughter. She busied herself ringing up the food, too ashamed to make eye-contact any more. It was so hard to tell with children sometimes and with hair that short she had just assumed, but parents nowadays were cutting hair shorter and shorter with children and she felt so _foolish_.

“It’s okay,” said the woman with an amused twitch of her lips. “We get that a lot with Harriet.”

“I am terribly sorry, _madame_.” She said. “I am Maria.”

“Rose,” The woman – Rose – said quickly, extending a hand. “Rose Meadowes. This is my husband, John.”

Maria took Rose’s hand gratefully. Then, so easily as to not give away her unease, she said, “I ‘ope you enjoy your stay ‘ere in town. The inn must be full, now.”

“Yes,” John nodded. “Yes, the inn is, uh, very full. Is it not always so full?”

He had a very strange way of speaking, this Monsieur John. Perhaps Maria had been in this town too long. Warily, she continued, “ _Oui_ , there ‘ave been many new people. They were just in ‘ere, as well.”

She tried to smile warmly but a shadow passed over Rose and John’s faces. Something was clearly amiss. Maria wondered if the shotgun in the attic would still fire after all these years.

This time, when John spoke, it was tight. “So many new people, you say?”

“Oh, yes,” She bagged the last of their fruits. “A small group of people came by here earlier, asking about a cottage nearby. It eez not a very famous cottage, I think, but the family that owned it ‘as not come by in some time; it eez considered ‘aunted by some people. Perhaps tourism will be on the rise, now.”

“That will be very good for the economy, I imagine.” Rose said wisely, grabbing their bags. “Did they look to be our age? I didn’t see anyone our age at the, uh, the inn.”

Maria heard the question underneath: _what did they look like_?

So they were not part of the other group. Fractionally, Maria relaxed.

They were too young to be in the camps, she thought. But then, there had been many small children gathered with the adults. Maria had not had the time, nor the inclination, to memorize their faces. Now, knowing what had happened, she wished she had. Perhaps she could have offered some condolences.

Perhaps she might have recognized these two with their young faces but their ancient eyes.

“ _Non, madame_. Only general observations, I’m afraid.” She shook her head apologetically. “They looked to be your age, though. One of them ‘ad scars across his face but a kind smile, yes? Another looked, perhaps, like ‘e ‘ad given the man the scars.”

“Thank you.” John said, sounding like he meant it. Their demeanors seemed to change instantly, suddenly bouncing with energy. Rose pressed money into her hand – telling her to keep the change – and they very nearly ran from the store.

Maria watched them go for a moment. They seemed like a lovely couple.

The door opened again, this time for her long-time friend Shelley and her grandson. The first familiar faces she had seen all day.

“ _Cherie_ ,” Maria welcomed. “’ow are you?”

“There are too many new people, Maria.” Shelley said by way of greeting. “I can barely keep up with the people already here, let alone new people.”

Maria tutted. “Such a pessimist. I’ve just ‘ad a run in with some of these new people and they were lovely.”

“Were they?”

“Rather odd, too. But, oh, I must tell you, I did the most terrible thing while they were ‘ere!”

“Do tell, love.”

.

“Can it be?” Lily muttered as they stepped out of the town’s boundary. James’ eyes met hers and her stomach flipped. Even with different colors spinning in them, they still managed to feel just like James’.

“It sounds like Remus and Sirius,” James said, unable to contain his hope. “But Remus isn’t the only person with scars and Sirius isn’t the only person that looks mean.”

“Surely the Death Eaters would have come in their robes if they came. Probably even wiped out the town.” Lily said. “They’re not exactly ashamed of what they are.”

James looked at Harry, just waking up. “That’s true. Hey, little man, have a good nap?”

“Dada,” Harry said sleepily. “Boom?”

Lily giggled, her heart feeling lighter at the sound of her son’s voice. “Trust your son to wake up and immediately want to get on a broom.”

James’ heart swelled. The reminder that he could have lost this all so easily echoed constantly behind his eyes. “That’s my boy. Skip all this walking nonsense and get right to flying.”

Harry looked around him, his tiny brow furrowing. “Mama, picnic?”

“No, my Prawn, no picnic.” Lily said. “We’re going on a walk.”

“Hungry.” Harry said, pointing at his mouth.

“Daddy has a food for you, love,” said Lily. “Would you like a melon or an apricot?”

“Melon!” Harry cheered.

“Go on then, Jim,” Lily said. “Give _Harriet_ a slice of melon.”

“Shut up,” said James. “What other names begin with H-A-R?”

Lily paused in thought. “Fair point. But you’re still never going to live this down, love.”

James reached into their bag to pull out one of the large cantaloupes they’d purchased, using a quiet slicing charm to cut it into small pieces so that Harry could snack as they walked. Over the hour, they traded Harry back and forth, to his delight. His favorite position seemed to be on James’ shoulders, small hands tangled in his father’s hair. They didn’t let him stay up there long, still skittish from the past ten hours, but the limited time didn’t seem to bother the young boy.

The door was ajar as they approached. James pulled the wand out of his pocket with a finger to his lips. Harry clapped his hands over his mouth without a sound, his eyes gleaming happily. Lily pulled him closer, standing with her back to the doorframe.

James motioned for her to stay outside and while she didn’t want to ( _not without you_ ringing like thunder in her head) there was no way she was leaving Harry defenseless. She watched as her husband slid through the door, listening for the floorboards. Something clattered like a wand dropping to the floor and she heard James’ panicked ‘ _Dorcas, it’s me_!’ before something flashed behind the door.

Instinct took over.

“Harry, love, stay right here.” She crouched down, setting Harry on the ground. “Scream if anyone else comes up to you.”

Harry nodded.

The door blew open and she marched into the house, holding her wand at the shape of her best friend with her wand to her husband’s throat.

“Let him go.” She said firmly. Harry, having gotten up from his spot immediately, peered over the doorway.

“Mama?”

Instinct took over and she looked to him.

A jet of red light knocked her wand out of her hand. This was why she didn’t go out into the field – she cared too much for the people around her to think properly about anything else.

Ally stepped out from the kitchen with her wand up and the same dark look in her eyes as Dorcas. Her eyes glanced at the door.

“She’s got a kid.” Ally said. “They’re not Death Eaters.”

“Death Eaters have kids.” Remus said slowly. “They’re insane, not sterile.”

Ally rolled her eyes, “This isn’t exactly a field trip, Lupin. They don’t _bring_ their kids to raids.”

“Maybe we could put a pin in this and focus on finding out who the hell these people are?” Dorcas suggested sarcastically.

“It’s us!” James said. “Guys, it’s James and Lily! It’s us, we’ve just got—”

“I would be very careful about finishing that sentence.” Remus said quietly. “Those are not safe names, despite what your allies might tell you.”

Sirius came in through the hallway. James would have been afraid of the look in his eyes if he wasn’t so bloody relieved to see him.

“Fucks sake, Coffee,” Lily said sharply. “It’s us, it’s _me_.”

Dorcas’ eyes never wavered. Not even as Lily felt Harry stumble into the back of her legs.

James pleaded. “Moony, Padfoot, please, let me prove it’s me.”

Sirius was on him in an instant, hoisting him up by the collar and slamming him against the wall with a thud. His wand was at James’ neck as he demanded, “How the hell do you know that name?”

“Just tie them up, Black.” Dorcas ordered. “We can question them then!”

Harry giggled from behind Lily’s leg, running out towards Dorcas, yelling ‘Dory’ as loudly as he could. Dorcas eyed him dangerously, clearly curious as to why Lily wasn’t stopping him. But Lily knew Dorcas well; even if they were Death Eaters in disguise, Dorcas would never hurt an innocent. Especially a child.

Dorcas bent down warily to pick Harry up, holding him uncomfortably. Harry wiggled in her arms, confused by the distance Dorcas kept. It reminded Lily of the time they went to the park together and Lily had to argue with an older woman about how _yes_ , the dark-skinned little boy was _her_ son _thank you very much_ and Dorcas – dark-skinned as she was – was simply a friend of hers helping out while her husband was at work.

The memory made Lily want to cry.

“I gave it to you, you bloody prat!” James said desperately. “I gave it to you because you gave Remus a rubbish one like ‘Moony’. He sounded like a professional flasher.”

Sirius’ brow furrowed. “Prongs?”

“Yes, it’s me!” James nodded furiously. “It’s me, you stupid git! And that’s Lily and the tyke is Harry; we’re _alive_ , Sirius!”

“The house was rubble!” Sirius snarled. “The house was _gone_ ; you can’t be him! STOP LYING TO ME.”

“Did you find bodies?” Lily asked, high-pitched. “You didn’t, did you? We got out, Sirius. _Dorcas_ , we got out.”

“How?” Ally demanded. She didn’t have her wand up but Lily knew that didn’t matter much. If Sirius was their most aggressive dueler and James was among the most tactical, Ally was the fastest. If Lily so much as blinked wrong, it was entirely possible for Ally’s spell to hit her before Remus even finished the incantation.

“Portkey,” Lily explained. “I made a one-time Portkey for if our secret was ever discovered.”

“That’s…” Remus began.

“Impossible,” Sirius slammed James against the wall again. “Portkeys don’t work under their charm. Lily would have known that.”

“…brilliant.” Remus finished.

Dorcas looked over at him, clearly unsure what to do with Harry in her arms. “Explain, Lupin.”

“Well, the Fidelius Charm is based on trust.” Remus explained. “It turns a location into a secret tied with the Secret Keeper’s soul so it requires incredible faith. The thing about the Fidelius is that the more people that know about it, the weaker it is because the secret is no longer centralized. It’s a last resort for people with no other options so when it was created it made more sense to only let one other person know.”

“But we all knew about it.” Ally said. “We’ve all been there, so wouldn’t that already have made it weaker?”

“Not necessarily,” Remus said. “Because it was James and Lily that told us all about it. The power of the Fidelius Charm is based on the Secret Keeper, not the protectees. The same way if someone attacked a person with a bodyguard, it would be the bodyguard’s fault that the person got injured, not necessarily the person’s fault unless they left the protection. So, when Peter willingly divulged their location, it weakened the Charm, which may have opened enough of it – not for full Apparition, but something like it – a Portkey. It was a slim chance, but certainly one worth exploring.”

Dorcas opened her mouth but Lily’s soft, heartbroken voice came first.

“Peter…willingly?” She asked quietly. “He willingly gave us up?”

“That’s how the Fidelius works, love.” said Remus gently. “It has to be willingly given up for anyone to learn your location.”

“They didn’t torture him?” James asked. “Kill him? He just…told them?”

“We don’t even know if this is them!” Sirius yelled.

Remus shook his head. “I’m sorry, Prongs.”

“THIS ISN’T PRONGS.” Sirius roared.

“We’ve a Glamour on, you stupid mutt.” Lily snapped, eyes shining with tears. “Fucking remove it.”

Sirius started snarling back when Ally waved her wand in wide arcs. Slowly, Lily’s blonde hair unfurled down, down, down, bleeding red as her skin paled, freckles blooming again. Harry’s skin and hair began to darken as if he was being burned, his hair springing up messily. James’ hair grew wildly as his skin turned brown again, his eye color spinning back into hazel behind wire-thin glasses.

The wand at his throat disappeared as Sirius staggered back. James ran a hand through his hair. “Padfoot; it’s me.”

“Prongs,” Sirius breathed before he launched himself at his best mate. His face remained stunned as he clutched James closer, “You’re alive.”

“We all are.” Lily said, being smothered by Ally. Dorcas carded her hand through Harry’s hair, kissing his face repeatedly as he laughed in her arms. Quickly, though, he grew tired of her affection, pushing away from her and reaching for Remus. After she set him down, she walked over to where Ally had detached from Lily, the two of them beaming.

Dorcas started at Lily with a desperate sort of love.

Lily met Dorcas’ eyes. The redhead smiled wetly. “Hey, Coffee.”

“Hey, Cream.” Her voice was choked. “Don’t do that to me again, okay?”

“Promise.” Lily opened her arms and Dorcas filed in accordingly. It would be a good long time before Dorcas would let her go again.

Remus knelt to the ground as Harry waddled towards him, crying ‘Moo-Moo’. His nephew stumbled into his arms, giggling as he swept him up. His knees hit the floor, clutching Harry and crying quietly. Relief made him light-headed, made him sick with it.

“Hey, Prawn,” Remus buried his head into Harry’s messy hair. “You gave me such a scare.”

Sirius wouldn’t let James go, unable to get enough of the sensation of his brother’s heart beating beneath his hands. Together they stumbled towards Remus, folding both him and Harry into the hug.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, you stupid bastard.” Sirius wept openly, sloppily against James’ shoulder.

“I promise.” James swore. “I promise.”

Lily came over, holding both Dorcas and Ally’s hands. Sirius pulled away from James to gather Lily up in his arms, kissing her temple and murmuring _stupid saint don’t scare me like that you’re not allowed to go either, okay_? into her filthy hair. Lily kissed his shoulder and made promises they both knew she could not keep just as her husband had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the new chapter. again, still tinkering with this story. i'm not sure how much detail i'll go into or what really the plot is. my goal is to update once a month or once every two months. really, my goal is to just finish this story and finally prove to myself that i can finish a story but we'll see. call it a covid resolution.


	4. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potters make a decision. Peter is interrogated.

The return to Headquarters was not as dramatic as James would have liked. Having faced the Dark Lord and survived – for a _fourth_ time, which not even the prophecy had predicted – should have called for a round of Firewhiskey at the least. Maybe two.

Instead, he was ushered through the doors with his wife, and immediately shuttled to a small bedroom in the back of the nondescript building. Headquarters was rarely used for people to live-in, excepting the case of those whose injuries were too extreme to be passed off at St. Mungo’s or too magical to be treated at a Muggle hospital.

(The concept of stitches was new to the purebloods and half-bloods, but sometimes Lily caught a Muggleborn smiling at their stitches and scars. Their small thermometers and ibuprofen bottles. The touches of home that so many of them had given up.)

So, James was decidedly _not_ surprised that this room where only the dying or deathly wounded lived, was waiting for him. He had no wounds to speak of, certainly. Some odd bruises, a cut above his eye, but nothing perilous. Nothing except the fact that he was, almost certainly, a dead man walking.

 _Voldemort_ had come for them, he thought, sinking onto the bed. Himself. In the flesh and blood and whatever other sludge made up the madman’s existence.

Harry had squirmed out of his mother’s arms and now sat on the floor of the room, playing with empty potion bottles.

“I didn’t expect to be this angry.” James said softly once he’d gathered his bearings. “I’m…I think I’m sad, but I’m angry.”

“That’s understandable.” Lily took his hand. It was only when it stopped that he realized his hand had been trembling.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Her skin was soft under his hand, the blood crusting over as he ran his thumb across her knuckles. The question sat between them.

“…I guess we’ve got to move again.” He said.

“A new Fidelius?”

“Make Sirius the Secret Keeper, this time.”

“Where? Godric's Hollow is...” Rubble. Dust. An almost graveyard.

“The Cottage?”

“The Cottage.”

Harry gurgled from the floor, throwing a potion bottle across the room. The bottle cracked against the floor, fracturing from the base all the way to the lip and spun for a moment before falling apart. Before Harry could go explore the shards, the glass disappeared. Lily put her wand back on the bed, still watching their son.

James stared at the floor where the glass used to be. Stared at how close Harry was to them. How Lily swooped in to save him. How she saved them both.

Lily, with her quick thinking.

Lily, with her endless love.

Lily, holding his heart in her hands.

Lily, the Muggleborn.

He knew Voldemort and the Death Eaters wanted to kill her. Have tried to kill her, multiple times. Even tried to recruit her the once. He remembered her laughter when Voldemort made the offer; her cruel tongue spitting poison _i would have figured i'd only dirty your ranks_ and her favorite phrase, _get fucked_.

James had seen people die. For their beliefs; the McKinnon’s wiped off the face of the earth, but their faces seared in his mind. Marlene’s gaunt face, the lone survivor of a massacre. For their blood; Edgar Bones and his Muggleborn wife, slaughtered in the streets for producing a halfblood child. For no reason at all; the Potters, for a prophecy.

Anger was red. He remembered that from primary lessons. Anger was red violence, sharp teeth snarling behind a cage.

What he felt was not red. This was white. Stark, absolute. The kind of fury reserved for the gods or the victims.

“No.” He said. Lily looked up to him.

“What?”

“We’re not running again. We’re not hiding. We’re finishing this fucking war so Harry can live a normal life, _without_ being locked up for Merlin knows how long.”

Lily stood with Harry in her arms, frowning. “He’ll come for us again. To kill Harry.”

“We’ll stop him.” James said, firmly. It was the kind of confidence Lily loved in him. The kind of bravery that made him stand up against evil time and time again. The kind of strength that made him her rock, made him her partner, made him her _James_.

It was, also, incredibly foolish sometimes.

“James, this isn’t Hogwarts—”

“—why do you always bring up _Hogwarts_ —”

“—this is Voldemort! He only found us in the Fidelius because Peter—”

“—this isn’t about him!—”

“—he will _kill us_ , James! Us and Harry!” Lily half-yelled. Harry fussed in her arms. “Our son!”

“It’s precisely _for_ him that we should do this!” James yelled back. “He deserves a world that’s safe.”

“He deserves to _be_ safe.” Lily countered. “If we don’t go in hiding, there’s no telling what will happen. If we do, he has a chance to see the end of the war.”

“Lil, we can’t let people die just to keep us safe.” James said, pained. “Imagine if he’d succeeded tonight. They all thought Sirius was our Secret Keeper. They would have killed him.”

“We know better now.” Lily said, still scowling. “We’ll be our own bloody Secret Keepers if we have to.”

James tangled his fists in his hair, pacing the room. The look in his eyes hit Lily at the knees, “Lily, I can’t do it again.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Lily said suddenly. “We need to do what’s best for Harry.”

“This is what’s best for Harry. For all the kids.”

“James—”

The door swung open.

( _carrying a cold wind and chilling laugh_ )

Lurching, James reached for his wand, and jumped in front of Lily and Harry. Instead of red eyes, he found himself facing a long face with a longer beard.

“James,” Dumbledore said, softly. He looked heavy tonight. Or perhaps it had just been that long since they’d last faced each other. Then, to his wife, “Lily.”

“Professor,” Lily smiled wanly. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“I am unfathomably sorry it is under such circumstances.” Dumbledore said solemnly. “Would you mind if we spoke about tonight for a moment? I promise I won’t keep you; I’m sure you are eager for a warm plate and bed.”

“We are.” James confirmed. “I assume this can’t wait, though.”

“I’m afraid not, James.” Dumbledore waved his wand, summoning three marvelously comfortable chintz chairs. Taking Harry from Lily, James took the one nearest the door, his father’s wand clutched painfully in his free hand.

“Please,” Dumbledore began, “Start from the beginning. And leave no detail out.”

.

Ash pulled her hair out of its ponytail, rubbing at her temples as she stepped out of Peter’s interrogation room. Which was really just the butler’s kitchen with a chair magicked to the floor, but hard times and all that. A tremor ran through her hand as she reached for the small bottle of pain reliever potion Shannon had left her before the session had begun.

That was how Sirius found her, one hand wrapped around a potion bottle while she stared at her other as if it had personally offended her.

“The shakes?”

Ash scowled, “Don’t call it that.”

Sirius shrugged, saying, “There’s not really a better word for it, is there?”

There wasn’t. But Ash was not about to give Sirius the satisfaction so she settled for silence, downing the bottle in one swift gulp. Immediately, the pressure behind her eyes subsided.

“Does Legilimency cause headaches regularly?” Remus said. Ash hadn’t even realized he was in the room.

 _Constant vigilance_ , she thought viciously at herself, _sodding headaches ruining all my good training_.

“Dunno,” Sirius answered for her. “Never met another besides Ash.”

“Dumbledore is one.” Ash said. “He doesn’t get them.”

“Or, he doesn’t show them.” Remus suggested. “Can’t really imagine Dumbledore shooting pain potions like Firewhiskey.”

“What do the two of you want?” Ash asked. Her bed was singing a siren song. “I can’t let you in the room with Pettigrew and I know you know that.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to look at that face ever again.” Sirius muttered. The vein in his neck throbbed visibly.

Remus put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, the whites of his knuckles somehow starker than his already translucent skin. Ash thought of Ally and Shannon narrowly escaping death, the rage that burned in the aftermath of so near a loss. The idea of Ally betraying Shannon or vice versa spiraled her into a place from which she wasn’t sure she would ever return.

This war would have killed her in every way that mattered.

When she’d first been assigned Sirius Black as a partner, she’d railed against it. Called up Crouch and everything. A Legilimens tagged up with a brute force Auror was almost insulting; as if her purpose was simply to strategize Sirius, to be his trusty sidekick. All her memories of him at school stung like lashings – the razor edge of his words, the pranks verging on cruelty, the incident with Snape. Everyone knew it was one of the Marauders pranks that landed him in the Hospital Wing for three weeks.

(She’d felt less bad about Snape at the end of Seventh Year when she’d all but perfected her Legilimency, practicing at any given moment, and peered into the Slytherin’s mind during a Potion’s lesson. Lily had been sat, rather unfortunately for her, beside Snape thanks to Slughorn’s obvious favoritism.

Snape whirled around to face her just as she breached the memory of the James diving to save Snape’s life, the haunting moon, the words _get the werewolf expelled, get lupin and potter and_ —

No poker face in the world could have hidden her revulsion from him.

Sirius had never asked her why, on a cold Tuesday evening in Seventh Year, she’d offered him a large chunk of the last piece of cake after dinner. Ash was rather glad of that.)

When her request (demand) for a different partner was denied, she made a mental resolution to interact with Black as little as possible outside of the office.

Of course, time and Ally have always had a way of ruining her plans. When her younger sister showed up, announcing her Aurordom and new partner, James Potter, Ash had fought not to bang her head against the nearest wall.

After that, it was difficult not to grow somewhat fond of Sirius. She’d never claim to be his friend or ‘bezzie mate’ as he had once called her, but annoyance was a much more foreign feeling than it had previously been.

“What do you want?” She asked.

Remus took the lead, “We just…we wanted to know if you’d found out why?”

Ash sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know Legilimency is more of an art than a science, right?”

“You’re the best at it.” Sirius said stubbornly. “Your word is as good as fact.”

“It isn’t.” Ash insisted, shaking her head. “And the fact that you think it is, makes my job more dangerous. I can give you his memories as fact, I can give you his experiences as fact, but motivations are murkier. It’s a logic puzzle that defies logic.”

“Please,” Remus asked. The circles under his eyes were black.

The words wouldn’t come for a moment, the impossible task of delivering terrible news in an already terrible situation. She directed them to the small table beside her.

“I want to make it clear that this _isn’t_ a cold truth. It’s—”

“Murky, we get it. Just tell us, Pava.”

“I’m not fucking around, Sirius,” Ash snapped. “I won’t have you irretrievably upset and dangerous over my interpretation of the facts.”

“Ash,” Remus said softly. Sirius was easy to fight, he fought back. Remus was harder.

“He was scared.” Ash said simply. “He was approached in 1980 by Voldemort, himself. He was offered a choice: to die there or to become his spy. Peter tried to transform into a rat and run but couldn’t get away. So, Voldemort gave him the choice once more.

“And Peter, terrified and obviously outclassed, agreed. He’d been feeding Voldemort information for seven months as the spy before James and Lily asked him to be their Secret Keeper.”

“He was…” Sirius gaped. “ _Seven months_?”

Ash nodded. “He was our spy the whole time.”

Remus clenched his eyes, breathing deeply.

“I handed them to him,” Eyes wide, Sirius stood, pacing. “I told them—It was _me_ who suggested—I…I _handed_ them to him.”

“If it makes you feel better, that’s why Peter refused the first time you asked.” Ash said. “He didn’t want the information. He knew if he had it, he would have to share it with Voldemort.”

“No, he didn’t!” Sirius roared. “He should have died! Died, rather than betray his friends! As we would have done for him!”

“Voldemort is a Legilimens, too.” Ash said. All that time in Peter's brain made her, perhaps, more understanding than she should have been. “He would have found out. Peter has no Occlumency skill. Trust me.”

“I made him,” It was pathetic to see Sirius like this. One single strand keeping him together.

Remus ended his suspicious silence with a loud, “Fuck.”

Ash raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been fucked since the beginning.” Remus continued. Even Sirius forgot his panic-stricken guilt to watch his friend. “Seven months! Seven sodding months of work, of deaths, all because of him. We spent months losing and then Peter decided we’d already lost and pushed us down even more! Ana and Robert and the McKinnons and Fabian and Gideon.”

“He didn’t give them Ana or Robert. They were ’79.”

“But he gave them the McKinnons! If Shannon hadn’t forced Marlene to stay here after her mission, Marlene would be dead too. He gave them the Prewetts! Did you see Molly’s face when that happened? Did _he_?”

Remus rose from the table, wand clenched in his fist and an eye on the door separating them from Peter. Ash grabbed her wand. She was not a dueler, not like her sister, not like Remus, and certainly not like Sirius. But she knew a fast Body Bind, she knew a powerful Revulsion Jinx, and she knew very well how to scream for help.

“What do we tell James?” Sirius asked suddenly.

“What do we tell him about what?” She asked. “About Peter?”

“About why.” Sirius explained. “About Peter refusing because he knew he’d have to sell them out.”

Sometimes, a lifetime of friendship was more effective than Legilimency; it would have never occurred to Ash to ask what Remus did, “Are you asking because you’re worried James will blame you for some of this?”

Sirius was silent.

“He won’t.” Remus said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Ash said softly. “I know.”

“You read his mind?” Sirius sniped. There he was.

Ash paused, “Yes.”

Their stunned expressions were expected. She wasn’t supposed to. It was a hard and fast rule of the Order: Legilimens were not to read the Order’s mind – it was why they didn’t ask her to find the spy, the same way their Potioneers were not to dose the Order without being expressly asked to. The same way they didn't curse each other.

If they couldn’t trust each other, there was no way they could win. And the mind was a sacred place.

“I was asked to,” She explained, itchy with the need to clarify. “When they first arrived, I was supposed to do a cursory check to make sure they weren’t…tampered with.”

“To make sure they weren’t spies, too.” Remus said, something in his voice felt colder than she was comfortable with.

“To make sure they weren’t Polyjuiced from the bodies.” Ash snapped. This was the problem with a strong Legilimens; the dirty looks, the secrets, the way no one ever looked her in the eye. “Which none of you guys _checked_ before bringing them here.”

“He knew our nicknames,” Sirius said. A flicker of guilt on his face. "It was them."

“You wanted him to be alive.” Ash said. She didn't want to be cruel. She _didn't_. She just couldn't seem to stop herself. “You wanted it so badly that you ignored the fact that _maybe_ Peter, the spy, told the Death Eaters your nicknames. Maybe he was a pawn in a much larger game than just killing Lily and James; maybe he was being used to make sure Dolohov and your fucking insane cousin could _pass_ as Lily and James!”

“But they’re not,” Remus said, hands splayed. “We would know.”

“They could have been! Merlin, are you all so stupid? You brought them here without checking!” Remus and Sirius wore guilt as well as Ash did.

'I won’t be guilted or shamed for doing the dirty work you lot weren’t willing to do.' She didn't say.

She no longer cared if they killed Peter, if they marched across the headquarters screaming to the rafters about her sorting through their brains like encyclopedias. She just wanted out. Out of this war, out of this skin, out of all this awful knowledge that no one else had because she couldn’t trust anyone to just tell her the truth. She had to find it for herself.

And the truth wasn’t always pretty.

( _And you, Peter, will bring them to me._

A cruel smile. James and Lily laughing at school. Harry bouncing on his knee. Death, swift and painless for them. Death, slow and painful for him. 

_Yes, master._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is more of an introduction to ash and general aftershock for j + l. the next chapter that i have sketched out is pretty expository; after that, the plan is to introduce a little more action.


	5. another painful twist of the knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order takes another body blow. Missions begin.

It had been two weeks since that fateful Halloween night and winter seemed to be coming early. Fat, white snowflakes were already littering the grounds of London, making the bustling city feel softer even as the air grew hard.

Warming charms were cast on every square inch of headquarters, yet the warmth did nothing to ease the mood inside.

“They haven’t left their room except to eat.” Dorcas frowned. “It’s Harry’s first snow and I’m not sure they’re even aware it’s snowing.”

Marlene set the cup of tea in front of her friend, “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“They’re more protected here than anywhere else; even if the Death Eaters attacked, if You-Know-Who _himself_ came again, they’d have to make it through ten of us before they got anywhere near them.” Dorcas made, perhaps, the most conscious effort of anyone Marlene had known not to sound angry at any moment. This had the unusual, and off-putting, effect of making her sound condescending even when she said ‘good morning’.

“Took me a month and a half to start interacting with people again after…”

“I know,” Dorcas said, softly. “But this is different.”

It felt wrong to compare apples to oranges; Marlene’s whole family had been killed and the Potters hadn’t even lost each other. It certainly wasn’t fair of Marlene to wonder the same thing as Dorcas, she just couldn’t help it. Which may be why she had visited them once since their miraculous return, impossibly grateful not to have lost anyone else yet the guilty thought lingered, ‘ _why them and not us_?’

“It is.” She said simply. “But we shouldn’t compare the two events. They’ll right themselves out eventually. We just need to give them time.”

“You’re too good of a person, Marlene.” Dorcas sighed. “Impossible to complain at you.”

“If anyone should be called ‘saint’ in this house it’s probably Marlene,” Shannon said as she entered. “Though Lily is probably a close second.”

Marlene smiled, “I’m not sure. I wasn’t nearly as popular as Lily was in school. You’d think she was running it the way most professors took to her.”

“Studious kids tend to have that effect. Mine were definitely my favorite.” Shannon set her empty plate in the sink. It was easy to forget their healer was once a primary school teacher. A witch that had chosen a Muggle profession was incredibly uncommon, especially since she still chose to live in Wizarding London.

Apparating to the Muggle world every day must have been a nightmare, Dorcas thought privately. The amount of Obliviating one must cause for the Ministry of Magic would have put Shannon on their most wanted list.

(The truth was Shannon Apparated for the first time in months after the attack in London. Gideon and Fabian’s faces among the listed dead. Awful memories resurfacing of her time at school: mudblood, animal, _lesser_ punctuated with Gideon’s hand in hers, his smile from across the Library, her quiet withdrawal from a world that never seemed to accept her.

 _We need you, Shannon_ , Ally’s voice crackling across the phone. Small ties back to the magical world that had never seemed so cruel before. She should have been there, she thought. It was Gideon this time. It might be Ally or Ash or Mary next.

Resigned from her job, sold her flat, and picked up her wand once more.

Next time, she’d be there.

Next time, she’d save them.)

“Alas, I was not very studious.” Marlene’s smile turned swiftly into a smirk. “Unless we were counting Quidditch strategy.”

“The Queen of Quaffles,” Dorcas laughed, “I remember that nickname. Oh, you _hated_ it.”

“It was awful! Especially when they decided it was too long and took to ‘Q’.” Marlene’s nose wrinkled.

“I think that’s far better,” Shannon said, “Makes you sound like a Bond character.”

Two sets of eyes stared back at her.

“Right,” She corrected, “It’s a Muggle book. James Bond is a secret spy for the British government and the bloke that makes all of his kit – his Olivander, basically – is called ‘Q’.”

“Olivander doesn’t really make our kit,” Dorcas said, “He just repairs our wands.”

“It’s the closest comparison I can make,” Shannon shrugged. “Olivander makes wands, Q makes stuff for Bond to use. In the same way we all go to Olivander at some point, everyone goes to Q at some point.”

“I’ll take it.” Marlene laughed. “Anything to makes ‘Q’ sound like less of a placeholder.”

“You’re anything but a placeholder, Marly.” Shannon grinned.

“All this Muggle talk is reminding me I have to meet with Hobbs.” Dorcas sighed. “I swear, that lad is half-Sphinx; _everything_ he says is a fucking riddle. Last time we went on patrol, I asked him if he’d checked behind Flourish & Blotts – that alley back there is pretty good for sneaking about, or so Lupin said – and this swot said, ‘Evil doesn’t hide in darkness, it hides in men.’”

She said the last part in a poor imitation of Thomas Hobb’s Scottish accent, waving one hand in the air as if to emulate some great philosopher. Shannon’s lip quirked. Marlene watched Dorcas gather her plates, magicking them to the sink as she stalked out of the room. Dorcas was a hard woman to like, and a harder woman to get to like others. She had a short list of loved ones with an even shorter list of those she’d tolerate for a long period of time. Even Marlene wasn’t sure she was on either of those lists, though Lily had assured her that she was.

It made Dorcas and Shannon’s friendship all the stranger. Lily and Dorcas were understandable, they both had a cruel streak; though Lily’s showed its hand far less often than Dorcas’ did.

But Marlene wasn’t sure Shannon had a cruel bone in her body. She was the exact kind of woman Marlene expected to be a teacher and a Healer. Yet Dorcas had flocked to Shannon as if they were birds of a feather, choosing to patrol with her on the rare occasions Shannon went on patrol.

“Hard to believe she’s got four siblings,” Shannon turned her attention to the pantry. “I can’t imagine she’s very patient with kids.”

“Makes me wonder why she and Brigadier don’t get along more.” Marlene said around her teacup.

“Probably the age difference.”

“So, what’s your plan for the day?”

Shannon hummed, rustling in the cabinet, “Oh, the same old. Mary and I are working on a large batch of pain potions since we constantly seem to be out; plus, we’ve got Ally and James going out to look for aconite, so we’ll have to do some work with that when they get back.”

“James is back out?” Marlene blinked. “He’s on missions again?”

“Yeah, he’s been requesting a bunch of them since he got back. That’s why he’s not been around lately.”

“I thought he and Lily were holed up.” Marlene frowned. “Y’know, trying to recover from Halloween.”

Shaking her head, Shannon seemed to find what she was looking for, a small box of hot chocolate, and started for the door, “Nope. Lily’s been on guard for Harry, mostly, and James has been out a lot more than he’s been in. I’ve got to get back to Mary, though.”

“Yeah,” Marlene said softly.

Maybe a visit to Lily was in order, she decided.

.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” James finished slipping his boot on and waited for his laces to tie themselves. Harry crawled his way across the bed, cooing at his father. James stood quickly, mussing his hair as he looked around.

Lily pulled Harry back when it became clear James was not going to pick him up as Harry so desperately wanted. As if to reaffirm her theory, the tears began almost as soon as his mother touched him. Hushing him softly, Lily bounced him in her arms before turning back to her husband, frowning.

“I wish you wouldn’t go out on missions yet.”

“Sirius is still clobbered from our last mission, Remus is getting angsty as the full moon gets nearer, and only Ally and I know what aconite looks like.” James said blankly.

“Shannon and Mary know.” Lily retorted. It was a sullen defense, she knew. “They’re the ones brewing the potion anyhow.”

“Not very good at combat, though.” James said. “Aconite really only grows wild closer to Wales and the south, and apparently Death Eaters have been seen trying to pick some themselves. No doubt for _their_ werewolf friends.”

“So, let Ally go with Calypso! She’s as good a dueler as anyone here and Calypso is good enough.” _Don’t go_ , she wanted to scream. _Stay here with us!_

“Calypso doesn’t know about Remus.” James snapped. “Merlin, Lily, I’ll be back in three hours. Is this one yours or mine?”

He held up a wand from the Cottage.

“Yours. Mine is right here. When are you going to go to Olivander for our wands?”

The old wizard had kindly taken their wands for repair after it became clear the wood was damaged when Godric’s Hollow came down on them. Promising them back as good as new, Lily had reverted to doing things the Muggle way in the time between; each spell cast from the Cottage wand had something ever so slightly off about it. Even their Glamours from before were not as seamless as Lily’s beloved willow would have produced.

James tousled his hair again, “I haven’t gotten word on them. I’ll ask Dorcas to stop by while she’s out today.”

Lily watched as he disappeared through the door, clutching her useless wand as her infant son whimpered.

.

Dedalus Diggle was a strange fixture in headquarters; Ally knew his work for the Order to be more along the lines of “ear-to-the-ground” than anything else. So, in the early morning as she arrived at headquarters to meet James, she did not anticipate seeing him and had, therefore, not properly caffeinated herself.

“Ally!” Joviality was Diggle’s foundational emotion, she had discovered. Everything else was built on top. “Top of the morning to you, young lady.”

“Bottom of the evening for me, Dedalus.” She said grumpily. “Didn’t sleep enough for this to be morning.”

“Perhaps a bracing cuppa would help?” Diggle held out a thermos. “Brilliant inventions, these. Who would have thought Muggles would be the first to think of this? An everlasting warming charm on a drink container!”

‘Yes,’ she thought, bristling, ‘Muggles could never have a brilliant idea, eh? Heavens no, not without magic!’

The tea _was_ bracing. A bit sweet for her liking – also a bit too jasmine for her liking – but it did the trick. She immediately perked up.

“What’re you doing here, Dig?”

“Came with a message for Dumbledore,” He said, shaking the snow from his cap. “He asked me to update him if I ever heard any news about—er, well, about something.”

It was typical of Diggle to play up his importance, to pretend he carried more than Dumbledore’s quick missives, and she should dismiss it as such. Should say goodbye so she can go hunting for aconite which is far more valuable to them at this stage than whatever Diggle has.

But James and Lily were almost killed a month ago, they found a spy in their ranks, and last she heard Elphias Doge was recovering from an incredibly powerful Crucio in St. Mungo’s. The kind of Crucio only a few wizards could produce and fewer could survive.

Klaxons went off in her head, too loudly to focus on anything else, even as James appeared on the stairs.

“You ready to go?” He asked just as Diggle made for the corridor that led to Dumbledore’s preferred office. “Ally?”

“No,” She said, turning to look at her partner. He had dismal, dark circles under his eyes and the kind of expression she always saw Moody wear when a newbie forgot to search a room upon entering: terror disguised as fury.

“You look like shit, mate.”

“Thanks, peach. I always forget how lovely it is to see you in the mornings.”

“Come with me.” She motioned for him as she started off after Diggle.

“What’s going on? You’ve had another argument with Dig?”

“Just come on.” She grabbed his sleeve, hauling him after her. Headquarters was not big by any stretch of the definition, yet it felt a lifetime before they arrived outside of Dumbledore’s office. The door was already opening again. With a tip of his hat, Diggle squeezed by them, hurrying down the corridor before Ally could open her mouth.

Dumbledore followed, Dorcas and Thomas just behind him.

Even James raised an eyebrow, “What’s going on, Professor?”

“I’m afraid you and Lily are not the only ones in danger.” Dumbledore said cryptically. It was a trait Ally could do less of with their esteemed leader. It wasn’t that she didn’t think the world of Dumbledore – he was, after all, the greatest wizard of their generation _and_ the previous one – it was just that he had a very nasty habit of withholding information she would have deemed crucial.

Such as, just for an example, that there was a prophecy about Harry that made him an immediate target of the most dangerous wizard alive. Only James and Lily had known for a time, and of course they had told Sirius, Remus, and—well, he didn’t matter anymore, locked up as he was in the makeshift prison cell they used to call an attic. Everyone else had been the victim of a grapevine, with most Order members hearing third or fourth accounts of why the Potters were suddenly going into hiding.

It was only the elite members and those closest to the Potters that knew what was really going on.

Ally had once thought she would be included in that group. She was James’ Auror partner, for Agrippa’s sake. But she too had been spun stories about them fleeing the country for the sake of their son before she wrangled the truth from Sirius.

(“You can’t seriously be angry.” Sirius demanded. “They’re the ones in danger!”

“For which I could be of service!” She snapped back, knowing nothing else to do. “Do you know how many protective runes there are? I can tie them to one of us so that if they’re ever in danger we’re immediately alerted. I could stabilize a chaos rune to make them fucking _invisible_ for three months. Give me a month! I’ll go to Egypt and learn the Futhark Alphabet, perfect each Aett and come back with a whole new batch of protections!”

“Your indignation,” The contempt in his eyes was palpable; a cold winter wind lashing at her cheeks. “Would be a lot more understandable if it wasn’t a cover for the fact that your feelings are hurt that you weren’t told _first_.”

“At all,” She replied just as icily. “I wasn’t told _at all_.”

“The fewer people that know, the better.” Sirius explained once more. The same defense he’d been spouting for twenty minutes now.

She had no retort for that. It made sense. It really did; she wasn’t so unreasonable she couldn’t see that. It didn’t stop the feeling of absolute uselessness from crawling up her throat. Or the painful confirmation that she wasn’t strong enough to protect the people she loved most.)

They followed Dumbledore down the hallway, Dorcas and Thomas somber in his shadow. A beautiful silver phoenix appeared from somewhere in front of Dumbledore, soaring through the ceiling with wings so wide it nearly covered the whole room.

In moments, the whole of the Order was flocking or Apparating to headquarters. Ally spotted Ash coming through the kitchen with biscuits. Quietly, she mimed at her to share. Her sister shook her head, shoving two of the biscuits into her mouth with a grin. Shannon trailed after.

“I thought you guys were going out?” She asked, coming to stand next to Ally.

“Moran saw Diggle come in with some news and decided we should stick around.” James explained. “We’ll head out once this is over.”

Lily appeared on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Marlene. Harry had his hands tangled in Marlene’s long hair though the witch didn’t seem to notice. Ally frowned at James; typically, he and Lily were magnets, always pulled to each other no matter the distance. Now, though, James remained resolutely at Ally’s side with only his eyes drifting to his wife periodically. Only when Sirius appeared in the doorway, leaning on Remus for support, did James step away.

“That was weird.” She murmured.

Shannon hummed inquisitively but Ally shook her head. It wasn’t something to be concerned with now, she figured. Another marital spat.

“I’m afraid,” Dumbledore’s voice, barely raised above the rest of the room, somehow surged over everyone else; conversations died like candlelight. “There is some grave news.”

“It’s Alice and Frank,” Dorcas’ fists were clenched almost as tightly as her teeth. Her brows furrowed, giving her an awful crumpled look. A piece of clothing worn too long. “We’ve got a report that they were targeted by Voldemort this week.”

Benjy Fenwick, their newest recruit, was the first to respond, “By You-Know-Who, himself? Why them?”

“They’re the other possibility in the prophecy.” Lily murmured, unable to feel even Harry’s hands in her own. “Their…their son is the other possibility.”

“You mean it might be Neville? Not Harry?” Ally asked. It wasn’t relief that went through her, she told herself. None of this had to do with the fact that she was closer to the Potters than the Longbottoms. It was simply that it meant the Potters might not be in danger anymore. She didn’t want anyone in danger.

Of course, the slimy part of her brain – the part that was honest above self-protection, that called her a cheat during her Transfiguration exams, that called her a liar when she told her parents the war was nothing, that called her a monster the day she faked her own death to force them to stop contacting her – whispered _selfish_.

And it was right.

Dumbledore lowered his head, “We are not sure of anything, Ms. Moran. The Potters, though not in as imminent danger, are still in as much danger as the Longbottoms, unfortunately.”

Jane Jones – whose parents Ally was sure had a more twisted sense of humor than even Sirius’ own, having named their first daughter Jane Jones and their youngest _Hestia_ of all things – frowned, “Dorcas, in what _way_ are they being targeted?”

“In the way that means Matilda Davies is missing.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Remus and Lily swore together.

“Who is Matilda Davies?” Ally asked. She remembered the girl with mousy brown hair, skittish the same way Peter was but in a way that suggested it wasn’t her usual behavior, big smile, small ears. Not a very good dueler but incredible with Charms.

“Their Secret Keeper.” Remus said softly. “Matilda is their Secret Keeper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise the next chapter is more about action; i'm still figuring out the flow of the story and establishing some characters. but we're getting there!


	6. hunting friends and enemies alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Mattie begins. Aconite proves tricky.

It was a simple enough mission after that: Sirius, Ash, and Marlene would go after Matilda. James and Ally would go for the aconite. And the rest of them would keep their ears to the ground for any movement.

That didn’t mean Sirius was happy about it.

Oh, he knew why he was picked for the mission – no one knew how to think like a Death Eater better than their kid – and he knew why Ash was picked – an obvious tactical advantage on an information-gathering mission was someone that could read minds, basically – but Marlene made him nervous. She was an exceptional dueler, true, and she knew some basic healing (not more than him, but enough that he wouldn’t be terrified if she had to perform it on him) but she hadn’t been in the field in four months. That made people rusty. And rusty people, like rusty knives, got people killed.

“Don’t be an ass.” Ash said, in the lobby as they waited for Marlene.

“Don’t read my mind.” Sirius snapped.

Ash rolled her eyes, “I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking, Black. It’s all over your face.”

Scoffing, Sirius turned the conversation elsewhere, “So, where exactly should we even start? Her house?”

Humming, his partner barely looked at him, “I don’t think they would have left a clue there.”

“Maybe they did.”

“Like what? A piece of paper with an address on it?”

“Like something a tracking spell would reveal.”

Marlene appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a jacket Sirius would have deemed ‘combat-incompatible’. Fur was so easily caught by errant spells; it would go up in flames like lint. Plus, all those zippers would make a ruckus if they were trying to be quiet. Like he said, _rusty_. He was about to say so when Marlene tapped the jacket with her wand, transfiguring it into a smooth, black coat with no zippers and no fur. The look she shot him could have skinned a dragon. Guess Ash was right, he thought, grinning back unapologetically.

"Love the look." He said casually.

“Fuck off. A tracking spell would only reveal the general path they took. That could still be anywhere.” Marlene said as they stepped out. “Plus, we just have to find out _who_ took her and that’ll give us a clue as to where they went. Her house won’t help with that.”

Frowning, Sirius said, “That’s trickier than you’re making it out to be, and we’d have a better shot at finding _who_ if we went to the _where_. Which is exactly _why_ her house would help.”

“That’s true,” Marlene conceded, “Except she wasn’t taken from her house.”

“I thought she was their—”

“Yeah, but _she_ wasn’t on lockdown. Merlin, do you ever read the actual report?”

Sirius scoffed, “Only sometimes. Besides, it doesn't make sense; if I was someone’s Secret Keeper, I wouldn’t leave my home. That’s part of why we changed to…”

“Yeah.” Ash said, sparing him the agony of saying Peter’s name. “We know. He was a homebody.”

Sirius made a gruff assenting noise. Had it really been almost a month and a half since that night? The war had always been hard on them, cost as many lives as it did money, but something had changed that night. Before, when they knew about the spy, when he thought it was _obviously_ Moony, the world had made a kind of sick sense: Moony was a werewolf and werewolves were joining Voldemort because they were tired of hiding. Simple. Death Eaters were always people that were angry or racist or cruel. Made it easy to spot them. Easier to kill them.

It was what kept him warm on all those cold, horrible nights at Grimmauld Place. Knowing that his family was so obviously twisted, clear as funeral bells. Made Hogwarts all the more loved, that there was a dividing line. A thick, miles deep chasm between Gryffindors and Slytherins - between good and evil - which demarcated with whom it was safe to befriend.

'Gold and red spelled friend. Silver and green was mean.' it had been his mantra ever since that first train ride; the first joke he and Prongs ever came up with. Eleven years old and already literary geniuses. Even little, tiny Remus had cracked a smile at that. They all took their first oath too: friends no matter what, except Slytherin.

Prongs' tiny voice, ' _Even Hufflepuff won't stop us from being friends!_ '

' _Hufflepuff doesn't sound so bad,_ ' Moony in his tattered robes; impossibly brave though none of them knew it yet.

' _Anything but Slytherin_!' Sirius had said, the desperation in his voice cleverly disguised. A half-declaration, half-plea to the universe. Anything but Slytherin. Anything but his family's history sticking to him like sap.

Losing Prongs had been a near death blow. The kind there was no coming back from. The kind that made him respect Marlene in a way he hadn’t before: if he was in her place and had lost his family (his _real_ family), he’d probably have gone mad. Almost did, in fact. Mad with grief, mad with hurt, and mad with, well, anger. He’d tried to kill Moony. Would have, too, if things hadn’t gotten in the way.

It had all still made sense. The betrayal and their deaths and his world shattering around him.

Until the truth had revealed itself to be much messier than he expected. That there were people out there that weren’t inherently racist (though a man that supports a bigot was no better than one, in his opinion) or evil or cruel, but cowards. Cowards that thought only of their own skin, their own bones, and nothing of anyone else’s.

The rat’s betrayal ran deeper than Moony’s might have. Sirius never would have suspected the rat, not just because he never thought Voldemort would have an interest in him, but because it just wasn’t _possible_. The rat loved them. _Worshiped_ them. A betrayal from him was like being betrayed by a younger brother.

Though, Sirius had some experience in that department as well.

“Then the question is, where was she taken?” Ash murmured. She shrugged when Marlene stared blankly at her, "Report never got to me."

“That’s the thing,” Marlene told them after an aggrieved sigh. “She was taken from _London_.”

“Muggle London?”

Marlene nodded.

“That…Mattie was a Pureblood.” Sirius’ brow furrowed. The Davies family wasn’t as established as the Blacks or the Dearborns or the Potters but they were at many of the same parties. Many of the same dinners. She hated him quite a bit – a prank at Hogwarts gone awry had taken half of her hair off her head in their last year – and was definitely prouder of being a Pureblood than Sirius thought anyone should be, but he didn’t want to see her _dead_.

Ash frowned at him, “You think Purebloods don’t go to Muggle London?”

“I think the _Davies_ don’t go to Muggle London. They’re a mid-class Pureblood family trying to rub elbows with the higher-ups. They’re not going to potentially damage their reputation by ‘consorting’ in a Muggle town.” The politics of Pureblood families were enough to make his head spin. His mother’s horrible voice in his head: _an admirable, if foolish, attempt. They’ll never be the calibre of the Ancient House of Black_. _Don’t think of them too often, darling; they’re of no concern to us_. Perhaps the first of many nails in the coffin of their relationship had been Sirius' desire to see the Muggle world as it was. Not just as his family always described it.

Ash made a noise of general disagreement, “I dunno. That seems like a reach; after all, Mattie’s family may have been everything you say they are, but Mattie is a member of the Order. She’s not going to be weirdly against Muggle London to spare her family’s reputation.”

Sirius shook his head, “You don’t get it. There are loads of Pureblood families that may not be Death Eaters but aren’t exactly keen on the Muggle world. It’s not all Weasleys and Blacks.”

It was a while before Marlene spoke, “Maybe that’s why she went? Because no one would suspect a Davies to be in Muggle London. Plus, Mattie might have wanted to go to Muggle London, herself, even if her family didn’t.”

“Or, maybe she was lured there.” Ash suggested.

“One way to find out.” Sirius grinned, motioning for the women to follow him. Cutting through the fence dividing headquarters and the rest of the world, he stopped at the curb, put his fingers to his mouth, and whistled loudly. From the distance, Ash could hear a faint rumbling.

“ _No_.” She snapped. “Absolutely not, Black. Don’t even fucking _think_ for one second I’m getting on that awful contraption.”

“Oh, is this the motorbike?” Marlene clapped her hands excitedly.

“ _No_.” Ash repeated.

Sirius’ grin only widened.

.

Wales was not a nice place to be, in James’ opinion. It was as dreary as England and far, _far_ too green. Too open. Perhaps if this was anytime else, he’d want a little home out here with lots of space for impromptu Quidditch matches. Only, it wasn't any other time. It was wartime and the trouble was, as it always was, the exposure; his fingers itched.

Why couldn’t aconite grow _literally_ anywhere else?

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Ally laughed, “You’d think we’d be able to grow it ourselves these days.”

“Why can’t we?”

Ally shrugged, “Just one of those things, I guess. Like how you can’t keep flobberworms alive in a normal home. They’ve just gotta be in the worst environment to be what you need them to be.”

“Hagrid would have something to say about that.” The groundkeeper’s flobberworm farm was thriving and one of the only ways they were able to brew the Wolfsbane Potion at all.

“Hagrid knows his place is a shithole; that’s not a defense.”

James didn’t look at his partner, wandering further afield until the only thing for miles was a small town in the distance and the swath of green that hid their prize. Ally frowned.

“Okay, Potter, what the fuck?” She said, jogging up to him. Aconite was clearly the last thing on her mind right now. “You’ve been in some sort of mood for the last month.”

“It’s nothing.” He said, wishing more than anything that _anyone_ else was with him. Ally was a good partner, a good friend too. She and Lily used to take long walks after their missions just so Lily could get out of the house, she bought Harry little presents or toys, and although he couldn’t be sure, she and Sirius seemed to have some kind of history at Hogwarts. Enough that Sirius’ eyes followed her through rooms.

She was just, also, so sodding _pushy_.

Scoffing, she said, “Don’t lie to me, mate. You and Lily both have been having some weird issues. Everyone can tell.”

“Gee, I wonder why we would be.” James snapped.

“ _Yeah_ , but that’s exactly the issue.” Ally snapped back. Two could play this awful game he seemed determined to win. “You’re acting like a right prick to your wife who you very nearly lost. And I’m sure it isn’t my imagination that says you haven’t even _looked_ at your son since we brought you back.”

James has a scowl fit for a father, and a temper fit for a soldier. It cracked his jaw with the force of biting it back; this horrible survival ringing around his neck to hang him. Being alive was a miracle, them _all_ being alive was a fucking gift from god himself handed down wrapped in twine with a lovely card that said ‘good job on not dying’.

So why did it feel like this?

He didn’t deserve his wife and son. All those promises at the altar and the delivery bed that he would protect them, that he would die for them, and he didn’t do either one when it came down to it. Lily had protected them. Quick-thinking, brilliant, and all in the height of sheer terror should have him giddy with love over her. And he _was_. Merlin, he loved her with every square inch of his bones, but it was just like Hogwarts:

He loved her so much he could die and she was too good for him.

Time had made him a much less proud man than he’d been in his teens – he was not afraid of admitting his faults anymore, even less afraid of showing them. Losing practice duels with Remus or Sirius only showed him that he needed to work on defense and soon he’d become one of the fastest defensive Duelers in the whole Order. Being outsmarted by Death Eaters on patrol, led straight into traps, made him understand the art of strategy in a way he’d only applied to Quidditch. The open target on his son’s back had forged a man willing to give up his own, treasured, freedom to sit quietly and let other people win the battles; James had only ever wanted to keep his son alive.

That Halloween night had taught him lessons he could not unlearn: he couldn’t even keep his son alive in their own home. He couldn’t protect his wife. He couldn’t protect himself. Not against the thing he never considered: his own friends.

It had left him with only one obvious course of action, the self-same course that got him through grueling Quidditch games. The game could go on forever, scoring points back and forth into the thousands, the millions. They had to end the game. They had to catch the snitch.

They had to kill Voldemort.

So, with Lily more than capable of protecting their son, he threw himself into the missions. Every bloody, harrowing inch they gained, every Death Eater they killed, every nugget of information they plucked out of blown-out homes or blown-apart bodies moved them closer to the boogeyman himself. He wouldn’t rest until those horrible red eyes were closed forever.

Only then could he look his wife in the eye and feel he’d done his duty as her husband. Look his son in the eye and feel he’d done his duty as a father.

He would protect them from the world.

No harm to the Potters, he thought savagely. It would be as Rome; his family walking through life, unmolested, with the simple phrase ‘I’m a Potter’ as a shield. So ruinous would his retribution be on any living creature that harmed a hair on their heads, it would become legend.

Become _law_.

“Please,” Ally said, stepping towards him. Her other worst attribute shining: that pathetic look in her eyes, ‘ _I can fix it; let me help_ ’. “Talk to me.”

James clenched his eyes, “I…I just…”

“Lovely weather isn’t it?” A jet of red light hit Ally square in the back, knocking her across the field. James’ wand was up a second too late to block the next one, aimed at him. Clipping him in the shoulder, he stumbled back.

Across the field, Travers, Alecto Carrow, and Walden Macnair swept in. James cursed, both under his breath, and then once more out loud, sending a blinding curse at Travers. Leaving the other two to James, Macnair swiftly changed direction, heading towards where Ally had been flung.

“Looks to be raining blood-traitors,” Macnair laughed shrilly. “Better cast _Impervious_ or you’ll get their stink on you, Tra—”

From the tall grass, a jet of black light struck Macnair in the chest. A second later, Ally was standing again, a hole torn through the center of her shirt, a bloody smear underneath. With Macnair down, James watched her cast a quick _episkey_. The blood remained, though he knew the wound was likely mostly-sealed at that point. At least well enough not to be a concern.

Ally panted, “Would you _shut the fuck up_?”

Comforted in the knowledge he was not singularly dueling against _three_ Death Eaters; he dodged another curse. Macnair was climbing to his feet as Ally stumbled her way towards James. Travers and Carrow advanced towards them. Macnair followed. Like the old pictures of British Revolution that Lily showed him once, they stood face-to-face again, wands raised as bayonets.

“Is your poor pet out of aconite?” Carrow bared his teeth. James supposed it was as close to a smile as psychopaths could get without hurting themselves.

James scowled, flicking his wand, “ _Confriga_.”

Travers deflected his spell, leaving him open for Ally to hurl a _stupefy._ It struck dead on his arm and dropped him like a lead balloon, though it didn’t make much difference as Carrow sent an Avada at Ally while Macnair revived Travers. James cast a blasting spell at the ground in front of the Death Eaters, hoping for a cloud of dirt to cover them for a quick escape, but only succeeded in blowing a hole at Macnair’s feet. Travers giggled, back on his feet, hurling another Avada at James.

“There’s a Muggle village near here!” Ally hissed, deflecting a curse from Carrow. “They’re not here for aconite.”

James hexed Macnair, sweat building at his temples. “They don’t just want to kill random Muggles, there _must_ be another reason!”

“ _Crucio_ ,” Macnair screamed. James watched the Cruciatus hit him as if through another person’s eyes, then the pain began. Though the spell was no stranger to him, it always felt like the first time. White-hot agony coursed through his very bones, destroying any concept of time he’d ever learned. It could have lasted years before it ended and he would believe it. Dignity was a thing of the past; he begged and pleaded for it to end, in death or otherwise he didn’t care.

As quickly as it began, it ended. Tears leaked from his eyes as he struggled back to his feet, expecting to be hit again. Ally screamed something at him, though the world was coming in through a slurry of echoing anguish. He could see Macnair was on his back, possibly dead, while Travers and Ally dueled.

“-rrow!” Ally was screaming something. “ _POTTER!_ ”

“Huh?” James asked blearily. “Wha—”

“GET CARROW! _AVADA KEDAVRA_!” Across the field, Travers threw his own killing curse, which Ally barely dodged, missing death by a mere inch.

Turning, James saw Carrow halfway across the field, marching straight towards the town. Small dots moving further in the countryside must have been Muggles from the village; perhaps coming to investigate the sudden lightshow in the distance. Scrambling to his feet, James left Travers to Ally, and ran towards Carrow who now realized he was no longer hearing anguished howls of pain.

Despite what Moody believed, it was not the element of surprise that scared James most when it came to Death Eaters. Constant vigilance was all well and good; certainly, advice worth listening to. It just didn’t help in situations like this where Death Eaters had to choose either to fight and potentially kill an Order member or kill Muggles and definitely be killed by the Order member.

They always chose to kill Muggles.

So, it didn’t surprise James that Carrow Disapparated towards the town instead of turn to duel.

“Fuck,” James swore, following after with a _crack_.

.

It didn’t take Ash, Sirius and Marlene long to discover where Matilda had been taken. Once Helen ( _horrible contraption,_ Ash corrected the minute Sirius introduced the bike to a rapturous Marlene whose love of all things rock n’ roll was on full display) touched down in a quiet alley behind an Indian restaurant, there was an eerie, frantic sound in the distance. There was no sound that Sirius could draw from to describe it; it was the kind of sound that defied metaphors and similes. A sound that led them onto the main roads, straight to destruction.

“We’ll all smell like curry now.” Ash groused, climbing off the bike. The billowing smoke just next to Southwark Towers hung over London as the fog usually did. Much more sinister given the obvious skull and snakes hovering above the wreckage.

Marlene inhaled into her jacket, “It’s lovely! Smells just like that dish Lil made last Christmas.”

“Chana masala,” Sirius grinned. “It’s Prongs’ favorite.”

“Plus,” Marlene pointed out, sliding off the bike, “We’ll likely smell like smoke after a minute if this has to do with Matilda.”

“It does.” Sirius said confidently.

Ash’s mood was not improved by either suggestion, “What gave it away, Black?”

Sirius pointed, “Well, first of all, the Dark Mark just there is a pretty big clue, don’t you think? Gonna have to get your eyes checked if you’ve missed it. But, _also_ ,” he said quickly just as Ash started swinging her hand at his head, “We’ve got Super Shack over there.”

“Kingsley!” Marlene shouted as soon as the familiar shape appeared. “Oi!”

The Auror looked over to the shouting and sighed, waving them over. A large crowd of people had formed, but nowhere near the explosion. They were all hovering about one-hundred feet away from the ruined building, chattering anxiously. Kingsley stood in the middle of the chaos, among Muggle policemen who seemed to take no note of his existence.

“Charm?” Ash asked.

“Concealment charm and a minor Muggle-Repelling charm.” Kingsley confirmed. “Just enough to keep them back, imagining they’re seeing something else.”

“Like a hallucination?” Sirius asked. “I didn’t think we could do that to Muggles.”

“The combination of both spells messes with them a bit.” Kingsley shrugged. “It’s too big an explosion to really totally conceal, so they just see some of the damage, but the Muggle-Repelling charm makes them stay back so I assume their mind fills in the gaps somewhere.”

“It’s amazing how little we know about magic.” Marlene said, humming.

Ash agreed. The complexity of magic did not appeal to Sirius, who decided there were more important questions they should be asking Kingsley and started in immediately, “Does this have anything to do with Matilda Davies?”

Kingsley’s eyes narrowed, “How did you know about her?”

“We know she’s missing.” Ash said quickly. “We’re looking for her.”

“Congratulations, then.” Kingsley said, turning his head back to the wreckage. “You’ve found her.”

Lathe emerged from the rubble, holding a clear, plastic container inside of which Sirius could see a severed hand and a bag in which a blood-soaked pendant sat. He recognized the necklace immediately; few families used doves as their crest, and fewer still had pieces of opal as their family stone.

“That’s Matilda’s.” He said, softly. Marlene gasped. “Is the rest of her…”

“Can’t find it.” Kingsley said, putting a hand on Marlene’s shoulder. Ash cursed venomously. “Though the Reducto took down this whole building. If she was hit _directly_ by it, she was probably torn to pieces instantly.”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Marlene murmured to herself. “Why would they blow her up? Why would they do that?”

Sirius took in the building. It was mostly decimated, chunks of rock still falling off precarious ledges. Aurors climbed through the wreckage, casting revealing charms to pull bodies from the ruins, checking if they were part of the Magical community, while Muggle police ‘stumbled across people’ after the fact and pulled them to safety. No one survived the blast from what he could see.

But no one else was blown up. No one else was in pieces or missing limbs.

“You’re right.” He said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Death Eaters rarely do.” Lathe said, stepping up to them after handing off the evidence to another Auror.

“No,” Ash said. “Sirius is right; this doesn’t make sense. Logistically.”

“What do you mean?” Marlene asked.

“Look at the rubble,” Ash explained, pointing at the building. “All the bodies coming out; none of them have blast wounds. They were either nowhere _near_ Matilda, which doesn’t make sense if this is an office building in the middle of the workday, or Matilda wasn’t in the building when it was blown up.”

“So, what?” Lathe scoffed. “They just took her hand off?”

Sirius glowered at the Auror, “Why not? You said it yourself, Death Eaters don’t make sense. But they aren’t exactly _stupid_ , are they? They knew we’d hear about Matilda. That we’d go looking for her; what better way to throw us off-track than to cut off part of her hand and the only obviously identifiable article of clothing and leave it in the middle of a mess?”

“Lathe,” Marlene said suddenly. “Where was the necklace when you found the hand?”

“Couple of feet away.” Lathe said. Something dark brewed in his eyes. “In perfect condition, too. Except for the blood.”

“If she’d been blown to bits, that necklace would be in tatters.” Kingsley said. “Magic gold or not, it would be, at least, broken.”

“And when was the building discovered?”

“Couple of hours ago.” Lathe said. “MacGillian and Clements was the first on the scene. Said it was smoking like all hell, tons of fires, and scampering Muggles.”

“But do they know when it happened?” Marlene asked.

Lathe shrugged, “No clue. But after they questioned some Muggles, their best guess was fifteen minutes before they arrived. Which was a good hour before the Muggle services did.”

Kingsley rubbed his face, “Fuck me; how long has Matilda been missing? Last night, wasn't it?”

“Report got in early this morning – ‘round four, I reckon.” Ash said. “And it had only come in when Matilda didn’t show up for dinner at her family’s last night.”

“So, about twelve hours.” Sirius said. “Let’s assume for right now, this is all a big Death Eater trick. Mattie is alive somewhere. What’s next?”

“Hold on,” Ash said, “Why would they wait twelve hours to leave a clue about her? They want her information, surely they must be torturing her?”

“They must not have gotten it yet.” Marlene replied. “The secret can’t be forced out; it has to be given willingly. They probably tried to convert her and when that didn’t work, they started torturing her.”

“By then, too much time must’ve passed,” Marlene continued. “And they needed to throw us off her scent.”

“And what better way to have fun doing it than destroying a Muggle building?” Sirius said bitterly. “So, I repeat, _what’s next_?”

“I guess you’re right,” Ash said after a moment. Her green eyes met Sirius. “We need to find out who.”

Lathe waved a hand to someone behind him, "I think I might have a clue about that."

Sirius watched a tall, muscular woman emerge from behind the on-duty Aurors, wearing Muggle clothing. Something nudged at the back of his mind, like he ought to know her from somewhere. She jogged over, throwing a casual salute to Kingsley as Lathe asked her to report what she'd seen. Another Auror, then, Sirius guessed. An Auror or one of those Squib spies like that Figg woman that creeped him out so much. Sirius hated cats.

"Mac and I showed up just after it happened," Must be Clements. Putting patrolling Aurors in Muggle towns was not the worst idea; though, privately, Sirius thought it would have been better to just set up charms on local landmarks to alert them to danger. It would mean a lot more manpower _during_ the fights. "Couple of Muggles spotted a strange couple standing in front of the building. Said they were holding large matches just before everything went up in flames."

"Large matches, eh?" Sirius grinned. "Muggles are hilarious."

"Suppose it's better than them being called twigs." Ash replied. "Did they give a description?"

Clements eyed Ash warily.

Kingsley repeated the question, "C'mon, Clements, they're _fine_. Did the Muggles give a description?"

With a huff, Clements pulled out her notebook. The enchanted quill hung at the ready as she read out, "Man and woman. Mid-thirties. Woman was petite, had long dark hair, and laughed when the flames began. The man was tall, lanky, and pale. He dragged her away just before people started gathering. That's all they gave."

"A woman with long hair that laughed at destruction." Sirius said sarcastically, "Gee, who the fuck could that be?"

Ash winced, "I guess this means we're going to the Lestranges, doesn't it?"

"If Bellatrix has Matilda," Kingsley's tone was grave, "I don't know that you'll find her alive, anyway."

"Either way, we'd better hurry." Sirius said. "If Mattie is alive, we're rescuing her."

"And if she's not?" Marlene asked, even paler at the thought of dueling his insane cousin.

Sirius whistled and Ash didn't even complain as Helen raced towards them. Sliding onto the leather seat, Sirius scowled. Ash scurried on behind him as Marlene took the sidecar.

"Then we kill Bella." He said.

He liked it simple.


	7. where there is smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Ally fight for their lives. Sirius, Ash, and Marlene try to save Mattie's.

Wizard training could prepare you for a lot of things. James didn’t expect a tree, ripped straight from the ground, flying at the speed of a bludger and ready to break as many bones to be one of them.

He just barely had time to flick his hand forward, open his magical core, and spill a poorly directed Shield Charm in the general direction of _in front of the fucking tree_. When the tree hit, it splintered into confetti against his magic instead of his body with enough force anyway to send him flying.

The good news: he was alive.

The bad news: the ground was cold, unforgiving, and waiting for him.

So, really, the good news is that he was alive for now. Quidditch had taught him falling was not as bad as it sounded until it was. He hit the ground in the bad way, the sharp crack of his torso against exposed root and rock was a gunshot in his ears.

‘ _Broken_ ,’ He thought, dazed. Three, maybe four ribs. His shoulder? Definitely dislocated.

He swore out loud, wishing they’d brought more than just him and Ally, before heaving as much of his body that wasn’t protesting vehemently back upright. Breathing was _hard_ now. Of course, Carrow wouldn’t be the kind of Death Eater that survived this long without being hard to kill; though James wished something in the reports would warn him that Carrow had enough magic to levitate a tree. Levicorpus was hard enough to cast with a full-grown person and it was _designed_ to lift something heavy. Levitation spells weren’t. They were meant for feathers or cups.

Looked like he was going to have to out-think Carrow, since there was no way he had enough magic left for a head-on fight. Adrenaline was bitter in his mouth, the tang so much like blood that it might have been.

Trying to keep his aim steady with a trembling arm, James dropped to a knee. A sniper spell was not ideal in this kind of situation with Carrow so far, far ahead of him. Long-distance spell casting required precision, required immeasurable focus. It was reserved for people like Vance or Hobbs with their thirty-for-thirty gobstones record, or Shannon or McDonald’s scalpel focus. They were the long-range fighters, whose faces you would never see when the spell hit. James had none of those things. James had wit, had bravery, had full-bodied determination that stepped on his fear and crushed it underfoot. With as steady a swish as he could manage, James murmured, _petrificus totalus_.

When it struck, his euphoria was short lived. Flitwick had always said that a Full-Body Bind was hard on a moving target, but James had thought he meant ‘ _only exceptional wizards, such as yourself Mr. Potter, could manage this_!’. Not that it would last all of six bloody _seconds_ on an object with momentum.

Carrow was already crawling back to his feet by the time James was halfway there. Close enough now to see the whites of his eyes when he lifted his wand a second time.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” James yelled, watching the jet of light soar over Carrow’s head. Only one thousand metres ahead of them, the villagers were starting to wonder about the lightshow in their fields. James could see them coming up over the hill.

He had to end this, _fast_. Or there would be a lot more ‘formerly unknown land mines’ spontaneously exploding.

“You could have joined us!” Jets of red light coming at James so rapidly he had no choice but to go on the defensive. Their spells collided mid-field, turning the sky into a Jackson Pollock painting. Sweat dripped from James’ nose as he tried to land _anything_ on Carrow. The bastard was rail-thin and noodle flexible. The kind of body that Azkaban built.

Meanwhile, Carrow seemed only to be enjoying the fight. His laughter was not wild the way Bellatrix’s was, nor the chilling laugh of Voldemort himself. It was delighted. It was the laughter of Sirius when a prank went off flawlessly. Harry’s giggle when mummy made funny faces.

“Why not join us, Potter?” Carrow asked, beaming. “Come taste power the way it was meant to be experienced! We’ll even include your little Mudblood and half-breed son.”

Barely managing, James sucked in air as best he could. The pace of this fight, coupled with his broken body, was causing the corners of his eyes to darken dangerously.

He wanted to give a pithy response, he wanted to give a furious one. He wanted to suddenly feel a surge of anger at Carrow insulting his wife and son, something to push him just a little further. Just a little more magic, a little more power. The anger came. None of the magic did, though. It was just tasteless wrath coating the back of his teeth, the same he always felt in moments like this.

Moments when everything felt pointless. This was just another skirmish in the larger fight. All this bluster and Carrow was still just a _distraction_. The kind of power Voldemort had on his side was staggering if he could send Carrow as a distraction. What did the big guns look like? Would they ever get there?

James had survived Voldemort through luck. Through Lily.

The war would need more than luck. Luck ran out, just as Fabian. Ask Gideon. The two luckiest sods in the whole Order, whose almost invincibility was a _joke_ to them. The cats with forty-seven lives; fights that should have killed them only wounded. Fights that should have wounded them only winded them. They were the terrible two, the _terrors_. They were James’ heroes.

That was what he wanted, more than anything. Invincibility in the face of death with all the balls to say, ‘not today’ and none of the ego.

They were indestructible.

Then, they were dead.

James didn’t want luck. He just wanted to live.

Carrow and him raised their wands at the same time. In one voice they cried, “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

James didn’t watch the light leave his wand or the light heading towards him. The last of his magic drained out, taking him with it. The last thing he knew was the insides of his eyelids and the ground rising up to meet him.

.

Aconite always smelled of food gone off, Remus thought, watching Shannon bundle it up between twine and hand it off to Mary. It made the Wolfsbane potion even more grueling than the thick texture did, tasting of rotten egg with the feeling of eating slop. All so he could keep a few mental faculties while his body tore itself to pieces.

It didn’t seem nearly as worth it as potioneers made it sound.

“How are you doing?” Shannon asked, rubbing her hands under the faucet. With her back to him, Remus could not see her face, though he knew that tone. It was her Teacher Voice. Exactly the way his professors used to ask how he was on the weeks before the full moon, the true question under their tongue: _are you feeling particularly violent this week, Mr. Lupin? Do you have the insatiable urge to bite someone, Mr. Lupin?_

Much more bitterly than he intended, he snapped, “It’s not that close to the full moon. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

Shannon folded her hands into the towel and looked at him. Those were _not_ the eyes of his professors; they were far less nervous, far less suspicious, and far more beautiful. A shade of blue so sharp it cut him down at every glance.

“I meant because of the whole James thing.” A tone just shy of scolding. Remus flinched. Right. Of course, she meant because of James.

Ally told him that James had gone down facing Carrow in a field somewhere in Wales, that he’d only _just_ killed Carrow when Muggles began appearing over the hillside where she stood across from one man that was dead and next to James, who looked it.

Meters behind her was Macnair’s corpse, long cooled, and a burn patch where Travers had vanished in a flurry of fire. It was all very dramatic, apparently.

Aurors were taking care of it now, she assured. Remus would have to keep an eye out on the Prophet tomorrow to see what simple excuse they would make this time.

“I’m all right.” Remus said, sighing. “I don’t feel guilty about him getting hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It isn’t.” Shannon replied, “I meant how you were feeling about lying to Lily.”

“I didn’t lie to Lily,” He protested loudly. “I told her what happened!”

“You told her that James got knocked unconscious from getting hit in the head, not that it was magical exhaustion. Don’t lie to me, I _heard_ you outside. These walls are not that thick.”

Remus rubbed his temples, “I didn’t…it wasn’t _malicious_ , okay? James has been acting—it’s that he’s just—look, he asked me to do it.”

“He asked you to lie to his wife?” Remus feared for the kids Shannon might have; such a tone would scare the greatest secrets of a person into the open with no hesitation.

Folding himself into the open chair of the make-shift potions room, Remus put his head in his hands briefly. Marauder secrecy was something he didn’t like to talk about. Partially, because it always brought out the paranoia in folks. Back at Hogwarts their proclivity for guarding each other’s secrets had led students to believe they were some kind of Camelot unto themselves, an untouchable legend of magic, love, and mayhem. It gave James and Sirius a pedestal on which to preen for many of their years together and put a dangerous amount of attention on Remus.

(It put a dangerous amount of expectation on Peter too, a slow poison of insecurity that Remus tried not to think about too often. If this nightmare was of their own making.)

In the Order it had produced even more dangerous results. Remus hid James’ secret moving of shifts – despite Alastor’s explicit rules – to avoid patrolling with Sirius who always found a fight when he went out, which only made Sirius suspicious of Remus’ attempts to pair him with Peter. Remus hid Peter’s frequent trips back to his mother’s (Remus did not dare to imagine what those trips actually were) from Sirius, who became convinced that Remus was lying about Peter’s whereabouts to send them on wild goosechases.

He never imagined how those secrets might look: a werewolf spying on the inside of the Death Eaters, whose visits were infrequent, consistently pairing Sirius with their most ineffective dueler on dangerous patrols, and seemingly preventing people from getting close to the Potters Secret Keeper.

It was no wonder Sirius imagined him to be the Order’s spy.

( _he should have known, should have seen, all those visits to a mother already gone, how did they not know?_ )

This brotherhood of theirs had saved his life. He would repay that with his life, if he had to. Keeping their secrets was the very least he could do. Death was the only currency they had left anymore, anyway.

“He asked me a long time ago to protect her.” He spoke. Shannon frowned at him.

“Lying and protecting people are not the same thing.”

He thought of Hogwarts. Of classmates and almost-friends.

‘ _My mum is sick again so unfortunately I can’t make it to the Prefect meeting.’_

He thought of the Order, the look on their faces when they found out.

‘ _But he seems so nice! So normal.’_

_‘Merlin only knows what’s hiding beneath.’_

“It can be.” He murmured.

.

The Lestrange household looked as most old Pureblood homes did: stately, haunting, and designed straight out of the Addam’s family design book. Though Sirius hesitated to compare anything like these awful, horrible relatives of his to something as wonderful as the Addam’s family. It was like comparing a serial killer to that famous nun woman that Lily always mentioned. Mother something.

“Darla?” He murmured, “Doreen? No…more like a ‘T’ probably. Tanya?”

“What are you muttering about?” Marlene asked as he dropped the three of them deep into the foliage surrounding the house. All the land around the Lestrange household had once been a lush lawn reaching as far as the eye could see. A waste of space in crowded, cluttered England as far as Sirius was concerned; yet there was no denying its beauty those days. Regulus and him wandering the grounds, plucking small flowers to press into the pages of large family tomes. Hunting for irony.

“ _Put the cosmo in that book with the Black Family Tree._ ” Regulus’ grey eyes, a small shining galaxy trapped in sharp features. Those sunlit days where it was his hand Regulus would reach for first before their mother’s.

Sirius already-tired voice, “ _No, let’s put the poppy there._ ”

“ _But a cosmo means order and harmony!_ ”

“ _Trust me, Reg. Poppy is more fitting_.”

“Nothing,” He said. “Let’s just get in there. Merlin knows what’s happening to Mattie.”

“Sounds like nothing.” Ash said, tugging her hood over her head. It was eerily quiet among the trees. Not a single iota of air was disturbed, neither by screaming nor rumbling, which were two things Sirius most expected from this family visit. The Lestrange house was not terribly secure, having been left in disarray for so long that every brick looked on the verge of collapse. Rodolphus moved himself and Bellatrix into a smaller Lestrange home closer to the Malfoy’s under the story of being closer to family; more likely was that there was something important in the Malfoy home that needed protection.

Or someone. Sirius shuddered to think what might be happening with Cissy’s infant son.

Rabastan had long dove underground, not content to live the lie that the Malfoy’s loved – that they were merely Purebloods living in troubled times. Rather than the purveyors of it.

Sirius agreed quietly, “It is strange.”

Marlene wiped the rain off of her face miserably, “They could have put a Silencing Charm on the house.”

“Why?” Ash asked. “There’s no one for miles.”

“We should go check. Just to be sure.” Sirius suggested, pushing open the storage compartment at the back of the motorbike. A silver cloth was folded neatly beneath a change of clothes and several vials of blood coagulating potion.

“Why do you have Potter’s invisibility cloak? I thought he and Lily put it aside for Harry.” Ash asked. Then, sounding suspicious, “Do they know you have it?”

“Of course, they do,” They didn’t. “I borrowed it specifically for finding Mattie and then I’ll give it back.”

Marlene smirked, “A sentence like that makes me think you didn’t tell them. Actually, just knowing you makes me think you didn’t tell them.”

“Shut it, Marly.”

Ash slipped her wand out of her boot and snatched the cloak from Sirius’ hands, “I’ll take it inside. You guys stay here. If it’s safe, I’ll come back out. If it isn’t, I’ll send up a Patronus.”

“I should go,” Sirius said. “I’m the best dueler here – no offense – and if something happens, I’ll be able to hold them off.”

“Right, well the goal of this is cloak nonsense is that they won’t see me.” Ash said slowly. “So, I’ll really only be sending the Patronus so I can keep an eye on them; not engage.”

Marlene’s eyes darkened with concern, “What if they’re torturing her, Ash? Surely you should step in, then.”

“If they’re torturing her now, they’ve likely been torturing her. As hard as it is, she can last the few minutes it will take for you to join me. If they’re about to kill her, I’ll step in, but if that happens chances are, I’ll be dead by the time you arrive.”

“Why is why _I_ should go.” Sirius said.

“ _No_ ,” Ash snapped. “You’ll engage immediately. You’re not thinking clearly and don’t even try to lie to me about that. I’ll go. I’ll send a Patronus or come back out. Now shut up and hide.”

Before Sirius could do anything – like Stun her – she threw the cloak over her shoulders, hoping it was more rain-resistant than it looked, and stalked off through the trees.

“She’s not very…warm.” Marlene observed.

Sirius sighed, “She’s worse on missions. You should see her around Ally or Shannon, she’s practically a teddy bear.”

“You guys seem close, though.” She said, continuing. Then, with a glance, “Trying to curry favor with the sister, are we?”

“Oh, shove off, Marly. You’ve been on that since Hogwarts.”

“You’ve been trying to get on that since Hogwarts.” She grinned. “Seriously, isn’t it a little cliché for you to be strung up on a girl for this long _and_ be partnered with her sister?”

“First of all, I’m not strung up on anything. And second, Ash has nothing to do with it. I happen to like Ash for Ash, not because she happens to be related to a girl that I’m _mildly interested_ in.”

“ ‘Mildly interested’ is a fucking funny way of putting it,” Sirius had always liked Marlene’s laugh, it sounded like the way cartoons laughed. Most of Marlene seemed to be cartoonish if you didn’t know her that well, at all. She even had cartoonish tragedies: an entire family smudged out of existence and a lover that only appeared every so often due to more dangerous assignments. She was a walking Euripedes play or child’s nightmare from one of those Neil Gaiman books Ally liked.

The not-quite-full moon rose high in the sky. Sirius wondered how James and Ally were doing on their mission. He wondered how Remus was doing as the worst night of his life neared once again. He wondered how Ash was going to fare wandering through a house of horrors.

Leaned back against a damp tree, “Let’s talk about something else, Marly.”

She shrugged. “Fine by me, but the sooner you own up to being into her, the sooner you can make a move, the sooner you can – I don’t know – be happy.”

“I’m plenty happy. Heard from Adam lately?”

“Piss off.”

.

Thomas scowled at the bowl as if it personally offended his mother. There was nothing threatening about the bowl of porridge, frankly it looked pretty delicious considering Calypso’s skills in the kitchen, but it was the destination that offended him more than anything.

Peter had long been moved from the butler’s kitchen, straight into the attic in the middle of the night and making sure to avoid the Potters room as best they could. He was treated to a meal twice a day, an interrogation once a day, and ignored the rest of the time. The stench of traitor was hard to stand; though Thomas certainly had less to be disgusted by than the Potters or the Marauder boys did.

It was trickier trying to get information from an unwilling source than Thomas had anticipated. Ash’s mind-magic was heralded as the ultimate solve, the kind of skill that would pull memories like taffy from Peter’s sticky brain. All those hideouts, all those plans, he _must_ have them stored in there somewhere. And soon, the Order would have all of that information. They’d be able to raid hideouts and save Muggles and save _themselves_ , their families, everyone. It was going to be the Midas touch turning this war to gold.

Except it wasn’t. It was Ash coming down after a whole night with him, an earthquake in human skin. Her notes were scraggly scratches on paper, not designed for human eyes to read. The descriptions were vague: dark rooms inside of dark buildings, screaming in both fury and fear, the hiss of a snake as a physical touch against his throat.

It seemed the Death Eaters did not trust Peter.

(Even murderers cannot stand traitors, Thomas thought with cruel joy. The boy that wanted nothing more than to be loved, hated by all.)

The chubby-faced Peter of their Hogwarts days looked gaunt now. As if the parts of him Thomas remembered had been scooped out, mangled, and thrown back in haphazardly. It would have been a piteous sight, nuzzling at the softer parts of Thomas’ heart where he still wanted to believe more people were like Dumbledore than like Peter.

He’d even take people being more like Sirius Black, frankly. Less pleasant to be around, but loyal loyal _loyal_ like the world had never known.

“Your food.” Thomas said, waving his wand. The magical chains around Peter’s wrists and ankles allowed him limited movement, enough to rub his eyes or scratch an itch but not much more. Unfortunately for the Order, that meant someone had to charm the food to feed him. Which was more than he deserved.

“You hate me,” Peter rasped. “More than…”

“The Potters?” Thomas shrugged. “Likely not. But yeah. I hate you.”

Peter’s eyes shifted uneasily, “I didn’t…I didn’t betray _you_.”

“You don’t think so?” Blown out windows. The charred wood. Bloodied remains in the shape of a familiar body hanging in the doorway. “You gave them Victor’s location, didn’t you?”

“Victor?”

The desperate knife-edge of anger cut further, “You don’t even remember? The church.”

“Church…” Peter murmured. “He was at the…”

Then, more urgently, “No – no! I didn’t mean for him. Not for Victor! It was…it was just a church! They wanted to know where…where Order members were buried. He tried to stop them; he was—he got in the way! It wasn’t supposed to be _him_.”

“Then who?” Thomas snarled. “Who were you okay with them killing? Hoping the Potters were there? The Longbottoms? Hoping they were just going to _destroy_ the graves of our _friends_?”

“They just wanted the Muggles,” Peter said desperately. “They just wanted to see if the Muggles there were…”

It seemed to only dawn on him then, what that terrible night was supposed to be.

Thomas practically spat at him, “You didn’t think, did you? Poor Peter, with all his popular friends and his bumbling. Not enough brain cells to rub together and figure out that the Death Eaters wanted to _find our families_. Christmas day didn’t give it away, eh? Christmas day at the church we buried our friends in?”

“I didn’t mean for this,” Peter pleaded. The wetness on his cheeks was genuine, though so was the indifference Thomas felt at seeing it. “I didn’t want – James and Lily and Harry, I told them, _I told them_ not to make me Secret Keeper! I just wanted to…I don’t know what I wanted, I don’t but it wasn’t this! None of it was this!”

“Should have thought of that.” Thomas said. The bowl floated from his hands, landing in front of Peter gently. The spoon ladled out a healthy mouthful of food. “Now, eat. We have more questions later.”

.

The Lestrange home was vast. Not just large, as large required something small with which to compare, but _vast_ the way Ash imagined old kingdoms felt. As if there was nothing to hold against these spiring stone towers and black velvet interior – anything that tried could only feel cheap, _lesser_.

‘No wonder they’re egotistic psychopaths.’ Ash thought. Architecture could reveal a lot about a family. The Lestranges were cold, ancient, and dark. Their ancestral home was leagues away from the rest of the world, they clearly valued privacy. They hung family trees as tall as the Redwoods in their home, they valued family. They married cousins, they valued _blood_.

(Similarly, her family’s home however was everything their family was: loud, colorful, and missing important things. Their home had no drapes because mum wanted natural light; had no freezer because they couldn’t afford one; had no brother because they couldn’t save him.

But there was no time to think of that. There was family Ash could save. Not hers, of course, but someone’s and that had to be enough.)

There were no sounds throughout the house. Nothing alive, anyway. Just the wind howling through cracked windows and something Ash did not want to think about scurrying across the floors. She turned down the next corridor, keeping the Invisibility Cloak as tight to her body as she could, and swept through the East Wing of the house. The beauty of invisibility was she needed only to keep away from bumping into things to keep her presence secret; the trouble was that a light would give her away. So here she was, fumbling quickly through the dark in the hunt for a woman she did not know.

Floorboards creaked underfoot, though barely enough for her to worry. The rats made about as much noise as she did. Most of the doors were locked throughout the halls, forcing her to crouch to her knees, peering under the large (and unsightly, in her opinion) gaps for traces of human life. Wizards used more Silencing spells than anything – the need for sound-proof rooms was nearly non-existent; it still put Ash on edge to realize just how exposed these old homes left people.

Calypso’s family had a home like this. Wide open-door cracks, windows everywhere. All that light, all those eyes pouring over them like ice water. Sneaking around with one’s girlfriend was difficult in most Muggle relationships; wizards took it to the next level.

Finished with the main floor, Ash took to the stairs. Keeping to the edge of the steps, she climbed slowly. The leftmost hall looked all but empty, with curtains blowing across. The rightmost hall was full of clutter, downed bookcases and scattered pieces of former antiques. An obstacle course.

Or a burglar alarm.

‘Ah,’ She thought. ‘Either they’re here, trying to keep a low profile. Or they’ve decided they no longer need this hallway.’

Logic said it was a low-profile attempt at managing intruders. The kind of methodology Ash would expect more from a Malfoy than from a Lestrange; subtle, careful, and more easily explained than barrier charms or booby-traps. If someone was meant to be there, they would know about the hallway – and perhaps know the exact path to follow to leave the traps untriggered. If someone was _not_ meant to be there but did not suspect what laid in wait, they would stumble over the traps.

For someone like Ash, she suspected there was far more danger lying in that hall than met the eye.

She scurried quickly back down the stairs, casting a quiet Muffliato on the entrance as she swung the large doors open, and hauled down the spiraling main staircase.

Pulling her wand, she watched as a silver cloud in the shape of a housecat lurched faster than she ever could in the direction of Sirius and Marlene.

She carefully laid out the layout of the home, the burglar alarm system, and her initial plans of attack—

—just as the house erupted into flames behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like when things go boom.........................though i promise that's the last explosion i have planned


	8. i need a hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A puzzle is solved. Ally makes an enemy.

When the house had burned out of its flames, Sirius threw his cigarette into the ashes. Marlene was sitting at his feet, her own cigarette barely halfway done. Ash was leaning against the nearest tree, the only visible part was her sleeping head, nodding quietly in time with her breathing. The smoke from the house swelled overhead like a low, grey cloud just before it rained.

All the books said catharsis was an internal discovery, something that was _realized_ once it was achieved – a discovery of sorts. As if he was supposed to wake up one day spontaneously recovered from sixteen years of hell.

It felt far better to watch the Lestrange house burn. Certainly, something closer to catharsis than anything he’d achieved in three years of war.

“Any theories, McKinnon?”

A plume of smoke pushed through her lips, “Obvious, isn’t it? Ash triggered something.”

“Didn’t go off till she was out of the house, though.” Sirius said. “Wouldn’t a trap have tried to kill her?”

Marlene looked back. Having nearly escaped death, also having not slept in two days, meant Ash was out like a light. It was jarring to watch Ash stumble towards them, hair singed from the lashing flames, coughing as debris came shattering down around them. They managed to contain the fire from spreading across the property before she ran out of energy. It had been eighteen hours since they left HQ so Marlene couldn’t blame her for wanting nothing more than to sleep. Unused to the breakneck pace of missions like this, Marlene wanted nothing more than to sleep too.

Sirius, as usual, was a force of nature unto himself. Sleep was the last thing on his mind.

“We should wake her up.” He spoke. “We’re out of clues now and need a new battle plan if we’re going to find Mattie.” 

Marlene stamped out her cigarette, “About that…”

“Hm?”

“You said if it was a trap it would have tried to kill her,” Marlene said, “So let’s assume it isn’t a trap – what else would it be?”

“It didn’t kill her, or even hurt her, so it isn’t offensive. And if it’s not offense, it’s defense.” Sirius said. “But that still doesn’t explain why it exploded. Explosions are usually attacking, not protections.”

“Warnings,” Ash said suddenly, voice thick. The bruises under her eyes were purple. “Explosions can be warnings.”

Sirius frowned like he was remembering something, “A distraction, maybe.”

Marlene turned back to the house, watching the wind carry pieces of soot through the sky.

“Pretty big distraction,” She murmured. “Pretty big warning, too.”

“Maybe Moony or Dearborn will have an idea.” Sirius said, fetching another cigarette and dropping into a seated position. “They should be here soon.”

“Why?” Marlene asked, snatching the cigarette from his fingers. She lifted her wand to light it. “We never come out here.”

“Yeah, but we keep tabs on known Death Eaters.” Ash said, plucking the lit cigarette from Marlene and ripping it in half. “So, I’m sure we’ve set some kind of signal or something in case something like this happens.”

“Like Clements and MacGillian? Undercover Aurors?”

“Sort of. Probably not Aurors but maybe some Squibs or something that Dumbledore got on his side.”

Sirius barked with laughter, “I almost forgot about the Squibs!”

Marlene’s brain lit like the cigarette, “Wait a mo’ – Dumbledore’s got spies here.”

“Yeah?” Ash said, swatting at Sirius as he cackled. “Black, you’d better stuff it. Leave the Squibs alone.”

“You have to admit it’s hilarious.” Sirius grinned, “We’re using – basically – Muggles to alert us to Death Eaters! They can’t _do_ anything, but they know all about the danger. It’s like using toddlers.”

“And how is that so hilarious?” Ash demanded.

Charcoal eyes met hers, “Because that’s exactly what the Death Eaters do. They use the weak and useless to spy on us.”

Ash sighed, “You’re unbelievable. Must everything come back to him?”

Before Sirius could reply, Marlene stood, “I’ve got it!”

Ash and Sirius looked to her, both puzzled.

“Oh, come on,” Marlene grinned savagely. “Sirius, you’re _related_ to them. Think about it!”

“I try not to think about it, most days.” He said bitterly.

Marlene rolled her eyes, “Nevermind that, Sirius, just think – why would they set fire to their home? They must know we’re watching! Even if they didn’t, they would assume it. So why burn down the Lestrange home?”

“To distract us?” Ash asked. “Lure us out here? An ambush, maybe?”

Sirius stood slowly, shaking his head, “Not an ambush. If it was an ambush, they’d have attacked us already, so that we’d call for help. But luring us out here…”

“Not ‘luring us out’ but ‘pulling us away’.” Marlene coaxed.

Ash frowned, “Marlene, just tell us. We don’t have time for guessing games.”

“Wait,” Sirius said. Marlene turned to him, practically buzzing. “We’re right next to the Black estate.”

“How ‘right next’?”

Sirius pointed over the northernmost border of trees, “I mean, right on the other side of those trees is the Black vacation home. One of many, actually. It’s where my mother used to take us when she wanted to spend time with good old grandmother and my sweet cousin Bella.”

The latter half of his explanation was punctuated by a strong gagging sound. Something akin to amusement rose up in Marlene; in between almost amusement and actual amusement sat the familiar lump of pity that Marlene had always associated with Sirius. It was one of the first things she ever felt drawn to him by, his ever present melancholy when someone mentioned the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Even their history, the _good_ parts of his family’s achievements, made him violent. The bad parts made him violently ill.

In their younger years, they eked out a relationship out of his sorrow and her loneliness. The McKinnons were not ancient or noble, their pureblood history was far less intimidating. Far shorter too.

Marlene ached in her Hogwarts years for someone to understand what it meant to be a pureblood that didn’t want to be one. She loved the Muggle world, the music, the art, the _determination_. They didn’t _have_ magic, these Muggles. And yet they punched so far above their weight class that Marlene wondered how anyone could mistake magical folk for the superior group.

They went to the moon, for Agrippa’s sake! Bent gravity to their will with fire and steel. If magical people had ever had an inclination to travel above the clouds, Marlene had never heard of it.

So, in Sirius, she found a kindred soul. Another blueblood that wanted desperately not to be.

A relationship like that, however, was not sustainable. Eventually, their warring personalities won out.

Marlene retained that soft spot for the jagged rebel with a cause. It just didn’t hold a candle to what she felt for Adam. Nothing ever would.

“So, you’re suggesting the fire was to warn the Blacks?” Ash asked, pushing her palm against her temple, willing the growing headache away.

“No,” Sirius said, eyes widening. He looked at Marlene who nodded. “To warn the Lestranges.”

Ash’s voice rose petulantly, “You just said the Black house was over the trees!”

“Yes, but the _Blacks_ are back at home.” Marlene said. “Lord and Lady Black have an annual pureblood party to celebrate Yule. A party like that will definitely attract the attention of other pureblood families hoping for an invite _and_ the Order. They wouldn’t risk travelling away, lest they raise suspicion.”

“Mum and dad are all about appearances.” Sirius said, “Marlene is right. They wouldn’t travel. What they _would_ do is loan out their precious vacation home to their dear family, whose more nefarious actions would be best kept secret.”

“The amount of logic jumps this requires to be true—”

“Is it any less logical than kidnapping Mattie in the middle of London? Less logical than booby-trapping their home with explosives?”

“The Lestranges moved next to the Malfoy’s,” Ash snapped. “Any movement from them would have triggered an alert.”

“Unless something else happened. Something _large_ to distract us.” Sirius said. “Like, say, an explosion in Muggle London.”

“Or Mattie’s disappearance. Or supposed _death_?” Marlene finished.

Ash glanced over to the tree line. Marlene counted the seconds until she said, “Okay, if that’s true – if they’re _there_ and they still have Mattie – then we need backup. We need at least two other fighters. We know Bellatrix and Rodolphus are there, but there’s no telling who else is there.”

“A patronus will take at least an hour to get back to HQ. We don’t have that kind of time!”

“We can’t go charging in!” Ash said loudly. Marlene scowled. “Sirius, back me up.”

Both women turned to Sirius, only to see open field. Ash’s head whipped around the clearing as Marlene yelled Sirius’ name.

Fury coated Ash’s face as she raced in the direction of the Black house, “That fucking _prick_ – of all the stupid, insane, _reckless_ – I’m going to kill him. I’m going to _murder_ him with a blunt knife.”

Following after at breakneck speed, Marlene almost wanted to agree. As much as time was of the essence, it wasn’t exactly her idea to just charge in blindly. She only meant they should plan among themselves before acting; not act without planning at all. Of course, that was Sirius. The kind of man that couldn’t stand back while other people died, the kind of man that couldn’t wait the ten seconds to come up with a strategy before going to save someone.

Marlene felt a stab of pity for Ally. If Sirius ever made a move, this would become her life.

She felt a greater stab of pity for Ash, whose life was already made up of Sirius’ haste.

Sirius was standing at the edge of the trees, still hidden in the foliage, with determined eyes drilling holes into the large stone walls of the Black vacation home. Specifically, the candlelight moving across the windows. If the Lestrange home was shockingly huge, the Black vacation home was almost exactly twice the size. The kind of home people always assumed purebloods had. Not a two-story home in a small clearing just outside of Kent.

“So, you considering a plan or just ‘run in and try not to die’?” Ash asked waspishly.

Sirius’ face was graver than Marlene had seen in a long time – since the Potters near death, that was – when he said, “If Mattie is dead, we need to kill them. If she’s alive, we need to get her out. What are the fastest ways to accomplish those?”

Marlene was fucking amazing at puzzles. She could suss out the murderer on all the telly shows. She was a monster when it came to logic games.

But strategy was a gift she’d been without for all her twenty-two years of life.

Apparently, Ash had gotten her share, “To kill them with the least risk, we need to bring down the whole house. From the nails and boards, up. A few well-placed Reductos at the exterior should start the process – forcing them out of the building where one of us can snipe them. The danger is that they’ll Apparate away. More likely than that, they’ll try to fight. Unless someone smarter than Bellatrix is pulling the strings, in which case, we’ll all die.”

“But all of this is determined by whether or not Mattie is dead – so how do we figure that out before we go blasting?” Marlene asked.

“To go in and save Mattie, we’ll need the cloak and run through the same plan as before. One of us goes in under it, scopes out where people are, and then sends a Patronus. We regroup and from there decide the best course of action.”

Sirius snatched the Invisibility cloak from Ash’s hands, “I’ll go in, this time. _Don’t_ argue with me, Moran, we don’t have time.”

Something in Ash’s voice made Marlene think she didn’t hate Sirius nearly as much as she pretended to, “Don’t get dead, Black.”

Sirius grinned and vanished.

.

“Are you an Auror?” A small, prim voice came from somewhere to her left. It said something about Travers proficiency with Blasting Charms that Ally’s ears were still ringing painfully and even the whisper the boy had employed to maintain some form of privacy made her head ache. Perhaps it was naïve to think that six hours of sleep would have solved the whole headache problem.

The red-hair was a dead giveaway to the boy’s mother. If only Ally could remember the names or ages of any of the Weasley brood. There was an older boy with longer hair, if she recalled. Two of them, close in age, but one had a distinctly more mature air about him.

This one somehow managed to be _more_ mature than the one Ally thought she remembered, standing a poor three feet tall with a scrawny, red-faced toddler in his arms. The kid had almost no hair but those freckles couldn’t belong to any other family, anyway. More than a little surprised that Molly had let one – let alone, two – of her kids out of her sight or out of arms reach of either her or Arthur, Ally didn’t know what to make of the situation.

The boy waited patiently for his question to be answered. No doubt expecting her to be some kind of impressive wizard that was part Auror, part doctor, part musician. Whose eloquence with the English language would instill in him some sense of safety or inspire him, a superhero with a wand not a cape.

Instead, Ally said, “What the fuck?”

The boy’s eyes widened, horrified at her language. Her own did the same; _shit_ , this was Molly’s kid.

“Shit—I mean, um, nevermind that. Don’t use those words. Those are…those are very bad. Uh, what did you ask, little man?”

“Percy,” The boy corrected sternly. Merlin, he was a carbon copy of his mum, wasn’t he? Ally had always wondered if Molly had been the same uptight, anxious woman that she knew now, and this boy may as well have been a Pensieve into Molly’s childhood. “Are you an Auror?”

 _Not really_ was the honest answer. Aurors were only supposed to go on missions that the Ministry handed down. These days, that meant cleanup from disasters and sometimes tousling with the more extreme Death Eaters. The Order was made up of Aurors, but didn’t exactly act as Aurors did. More often than not, they were vigilante justice handed down _next_ to Aurors. The Shacklebolts and Lathes and Dearborns whose involvement was on the periphery of the Order; information slipped here and there, some backup in case they needed it, a coincidental ‘oh, what a surprise to see you here, underneath this Dark Mark where a Muggle neighborhood has been blown to shreds, how’s the family?’ situation.

But this kid – Percy – could be no older than five and would not understand the complications of government.

So, she said, “Yes.”

Which was not a _lie_. She was an Auror, officially. She just…didn’t act like one, most days.

“What’s your name?”

“Ally.”

“Do you fight with my mum and dad?”

“Only when they’re mad at me.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind; yes, your parents and I fight together.”

“Are you strong?”

“What is this? An interrogation?”

“What’s an inter-rog-ayshun?”

“It’s when someone asks you a lot of questions that you don’t want to answer.”

Oh, shit, those were tears. Percy looked up at her with watery eyes, “You don’t…want to answer my questions?”

 _Fuck_. This was why Ally didn’t have kids. She swallowed her awkwardness, ignored the pulsing in her head that urged her to Shannon, and smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry, Percy. That was rude of me. I’ll answer your questions if I can.”

The tears disappeared immediately. Ally got the distinct feeling she’d just been played.

“Who are you fighting?” Percy asked. “Mummy says it’s a bad wizard, but they only ever call him You-Know-Who and Bill says that’s not his name but he won’t _tell me_ his name so I can’t look him up.”

He was a tough kid, this Percy. His baby brother had a wicked grip on his curly red hair, pulling delightedly, but he didn’t seem to mind. Just kept staring at Ally with those curious eyes.

“Well,” Ally began awkwardly. “You’ve heard your mum mention You-Know-Who…he’s, uh. He’s a very bad man who—”

“Is he strong?” Percy asked, wide-eyed. “Mummy says he’s super strong. That he hurts people.”

Wincing, Ally said, “Yes, he’s very strong.”

“Stronger than daddy?” There was a skepticism in this kid’s eyes that Ally absolutely delighted in. She remembered when she thought her da’ was invincible. When she thought her mummy could make everything better. Back when she didn’t know what a corpse looked like or how Ash sounded when she broke bone.

“He’s very strong.” She said simply. “And we – that is, your mummy and daddy and the rest of us – are doing everything we can to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”

Percy bit his lip, as if hesitating to speak to this strange woman with the ugly tattoos for fear that his mother would arrive and scold him. Then, seemingly overcoming this terror, he met Ally’s eyes again. Such big brown eyes on such a small face.

“Mummy doesn’t want Billy to go to Hogwarts,” He confessed. “And Charlie says it’s because You-Know-Who will kill him. Like he killed Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon.”

Ah, _yes_. Now, she remembered Molly’s eleven-year-old – the kid was apparently already reading every magical combat book he could get his hands on, which meant Molly was always on the verge of ripping out her lovely red hair. It should have broken her heart to think of a boy practicing to be a soldier already; but the truth was that Ally was rather proud of him.

She knelt in front of this stern five-year-old, whose upper lip was as stiff as could be. Molly and Arthur had done a number on these poor kids, she thought. A child soldier in the making that they would never train, another son that clearly knew too much about the war from a source other than them, and this one holding onto one of the squalling twins who was obviously unhappy at being without his brother. Or perhaps, unhappy with the brother he _was_ currently with.

“I imagine your mummy would worry about Billy going off to school no matter what,” She said, grinning. Percy stifled a giggle. Waving her wand, Ally summoned her Patronus – a rather large gyrfalcon – and let it circle the two boys. The twin stopped crying almost immediately, reaching up to grab at the Patronus which disappeared in his hand.

She summoned the Patronus again. It felt foreign to use her wand for something so innocuous. To amuse two little red-heads she barely knew. Two children whose fears of the war revolved around whether mummy and daddy would be there to tuck them in at night. Of late, she’d imagined her wand the way her uncles imagined their guns: a tool of protection and nothing more.

It was purely functional to know a Patronus – Merlin only knew whose side the Dementors would fall on – and it served as a fast messenger in times of great danger. It was not a toy nor a show to be put on for the entertainment of others. Magic was a weapon in the hands of the wielder. Respected, vital, and meant to be loved only as one would love a knife.

But it hadn’t always been. Magic had been her closest friend, once upon a time. Sunlit days at Hogwarts, casting Butterfly Charms just because she could. Just to see the world become brighter than it had before at _her_ _will_. It was a joy to summon books from across the room. Every winter’s day was simply an opportunity to practice a Warming Charm. Her staircases _moved_!

Now, she thought of magic in purely practical terms: how many spells to take down Dolohov, how much force to put in her _Expelliarmus_ so she could do lasting damage to the arm holding the wand, how fast could she cast an _Avada_ if she ever needed it. It was a long list of internal calculations that had become second-nature to her as much as the Runes were. And both had become entirely practical. Where were the days, she wondered, when the Runes were fun to study? She sought Chaos Runes because they were new, shiny, and interesting. Now she was knee deep in them with one thing on her mind: how to kill as many Death Eaters as she could. The Futhark Alphabet promised so many wonderful things like natural magic, even bringing trees to life for a short period of time, and it _should_ have made Ally think about playing games in the forest – _with_ the forest – but instead her first thought was: oh, goodie, we can use them as soldiers.

“Miss Ally,” Percy’s small voice broke her from her thoughts. “Will Billy, Charlie, Fred and George, and I have to fight?”

Oh, she was not cut out for this.

“You’re too young to worry about that.” She said, pained. Privately, she meant it to be: _barely up to her knees, practice your avadas children, coffins too small, so small in the cemetery, mothers on their knees begging, screaming, my baby, my baby_ —

“We can fight!” Percy argued.

“Can fight!” Fred echoed, happily.

“ _What_ is going on here?!” A new voice demanded.

.

Mattie saw him and that was all it took.

Crouching somewhere in the corner of a very large, very grey drawing room that he remembered from that time his mother disappeared for hours with Narcissa and Andromeda. The same day Andromeda left in tears. It was the last time he saw her, he remembered. The last golden day at this house where so many bad things had happened – and were still happening.

Her head was shaved, her clothes tattered and her hand missing. If Sirius looked very hard, he could see the outline of a word carved in her chest, just under her collarbone. Nausea ran through him like a locomotive. They’ve cut off her hand, cut her chest, cut her hair, and they were still going. Beneath Bellatrix, Mattie barely struggled. Just whimpered quietly while Bellatrix cackled.

“You really do enjoy this, don’t you, darling?” Rodolphus asked as if over tea.

Bellatrix smiled back at her husband, “Our lord will be so pleased if we can just get her to speak! Can’t you see it? Perhaps – oh – perhaps a _smile_.”

“My dear, you make the rest of us look like traitors.” He laughed, twirling his wand. “She has been rather stubborn, though. I’m almost surprised.”

The most terrifying thing about Bellatrix was not her sadism. Not even her power. It was her love, so tightly intertwined with rage that Sirius could still see the death of a House Elf at her wand after it stepped on Narcissa’s toes accidentally. It was that kind of memory that kept the flames of his anger burning, even on days he didn’t think he could go on.

The same fury that day was catalogued on her face now. There was no hair of Mattie’s to yank, so Bellatrix grabbed at the skin with her nails. Mattie gasped, meeting Bellatrix’s eyes.

“Now, little princess, tell us where the Longbottoms are. Tell us and all this can be over.”

Mattie said nothing, though Sirius had a feeling that Mattie knew if her lips opened, she would have given up the Longbottoms in a heartbeat. Anything to spare her more pain. Anything for a second of respite. And so, she kept them resolutely shut.

In that moment, he had such a fierce hatred of the rat that he almost mistook it for love for Mattie. _This_ was true friendship. This was the kind of loyalty Sirius sought for so long. This was what he would have done, had he stayed Secret Keeper.

Died with joy knowing he kept his friends safe. When death came to meet him, wielding that large scythe, that tattered cloak, Sirius would have gone with him willingly. The only question he would have asked: _are they safe_?

Instead, they chose a traitor.

Rage can make people sloppy. It certainly made Bellatrix impatient, still raving about a painless death even as Mattie stared so defiantly away from her. Rage was what made him thoughtlessly sentence Snape to death at the hands of Remus. Rage made him storm from his parents’ home with nothing but his leather jacket and wand.

And rage revealed him. The hem of the cloak slipped for just a moment off of his face, not long enough for Rodolphus or Bellatrix to see. Long enough, however, for Mattie’s eyes to flicker.

Long enough for her to recognize him. For hope to flutter, a delicate bird, in her chest: she was _safe_ , they were coming to _save her_ , it was going to be _over_ so soon it was so close, this was going to _end_ —

“HELP,” Mattie screamed. Such a phrase might be played off, might be taken as a general cry, until “SIRIUS! _HELP_!”

It stung the way his mother’s cane always did, to watch Bellatrix whirl around. Logic said _run run run_. Emotion said _kill her kill her kill her_.

His body did neither.

Mindlessly, he threw a Patronus in the general direction of his friends. Then, he rocked off his heels and barreled straight towards Bellatrix. Rodolphus lurched with his wand, not fast enough to block Sirius throwing an _Expelliarmus_ , which launched him off of his feet.

“Bitty cousin!” Bellatrix cried gleefully – a jet of green light dancing dangerously close to Sirius’ cheek. “Come for a family reunion?”

“Family funeral, Bella.” Sirius said. They circled each other, two shadows around a flame.

“Oh dear, accepting your death already.” Bellatrix shook her head mockingly. She danced close to him, close enough to tug a lock of his hair. “Auntie Walburga will be so disappointed.”

“Not mine, dear cousin.” Sirius surged forward, cocking his wandhand back. With a satisfying crunch, his knuckles crashed against her cheek. “Yours.”

.

It was like knowing about gravity to know how good of a dueler Sirius was. An immutable fact of the world that always hovered just on the edge of awareness, so easily taken for granted, so easily _forgotten_ until something forced your attention. Watching a landslide. Watching a body fall.

Watching Sirius duel.

It was almost art. Ash appreciated art.

Marlene and her followed the shaggy patronus through the house, winding through hallways and down long, marble staircases. The sounds of fighting up ahead grew louder and eventually the silver dog vanished in a wisp, no longer needed to discover the wreckage of the battlefield.

A great swarm of fire licked at the walls, surrounding Sirius as he struggled against both Lestranges. Exhaustion was obvious in the way he moved. The fire swung from the end of Bellatrix’s wand like a whip until it was no longer a fire under her control. Marlene threw herself immediately into a duel with Rodolphus, diverting his attention from Sirius.

Three initially errant spells missed Rodolphus entirely. About to step in with some much needed aid, Ash raised her wand just in time to see a section of the wall behind him was no longer wall, but viscous. Ash watched in semi-awe as Marlene turned stone to amber, hexing Rodolphus back and back until he was stepping straight into the now quickly hardening material.

Brilliant, she thought.

“Fool!” Bellatrix screamed. “You’ll be trapped!”

Sirius roared, “You should be focusing on yourself, Bella!”

The fire from her wand suddenly transformed into smoke, refocusing until it was a large black snake, aiming straight for Bellatrix’s neck. With both Death Eaters occupied, Ash found her window.

Quietly she split a path through the fire to reach Mattie, slumped over in her chair, inhaling dangerous amounts of smoke. The damage was undeniably bad. Not the worst Ash had seen in all this time - no, that honor was reserved for Anna - just enough to make her nervous about Mattie's chances. The wooden chair she was tied to was stuck somehow to the floor, interfering with Ash's intent to make a stretcher out of it. She would have to get Mattie off of the chair if she wanted a chance at survival.

This made things significantly more difficult.

Magical chains were not as easily broken as Muggle ones. They required the caster to unmake them. No one else could. Unless one of the three of them got particularly good at an Imperius curse in the last minute or so, Ash had serious doubts she'd be able to convince Bellatrix to unbind her victim. Unhappily, Ash stared at the magical bond around Mattie’s remaining wrist, tying it to the chair. Her obviously poorly cauterized stump of her other arm was tied at the elbow. So much pain, and so much more to follow.

“Matilda,” She said, not softly so as to be heard, but gently so as not to alarm. “Mattie, I want to help you. But you’re tied with magical chains.”

Mattie was smart. Had to be to survive this long. “Cut them. Just…p-please, I want to go home.”

Ash nodded, moving to stand behind her. She dragged her wand across two lines – one just above Mattie’s wrist and the other just above her elbow. Then, with as much care as the situation could afford, Ash slashed through both lines. Blood poured from the open wounds. Screams poured from Mattie’s mouth.

Keeping her upright with one hand, Ash focused on healing the wounds quickly. It would be just their luck to come all this way, get so close to saving her, and then have her die anyway.

Another wave of the wand and Mattie’s wounds began to ease the bleeding. One more _vulnera sanentur_ and the wound seemed to knit itself back together. Ash reached back over and hoisted the now-unconscious Mattie from the seat, over her shoulder.

Marlene had joined Sirius in his fight against Bellatrix, with Rodolphus now almost fully encased in the amber.

Ash couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t spare them a glance, she stepped out from the burning room, out from the house, and gripping Mattie tightly, she Apparated.

.

Ally looked up to meet Molly Weasley’s thunderous face. The other twin was in her arms for only the briefest moment, for once he laid eyes on his other half, he squirmed right out of them and toddled over to grab his brother’s hand. The three small boys stood between the women and Ally thought, perhaps, that’s why she was still alive.

“Boys, go find your father.” Molly commanded.

“But!” Ally didn’t even look down to see which boy protested.

“ _Now_.”

Once they were clear from the room, Molly advanced. The look on her face could have cowed Voldemort himself into apologizing.

“What the hell are you doing telling my children to fight?” She demanded shrilly.

Ally held her hands up in the universal sign for ‘don’t shoot’ before explaining, “I told them not to fight. They’re the ones that said they could.”

“Why are you talking to them about the war at all?!”

“They _asked_ , Molly. Percy wanted to know if I was helping you fight, I said yes, then he started asking about Voldemort and I—”

“And you just started chit-chatting with a five-year-old about You-Know-Who!” Molly’s tone was a tundra inside of a snowglobe.

Ally scowled, irritation steadily brewing, “Molly, you’re being ridiculous. Percy is clearly a bright kid that understands a lot more than you’re telling him. He’s going to have questions! And since it seems you guys won’t answer them, he’s going to ask other people.”

“Who should immediately tell him to ask his parents! You know, the ones that are in charge of his well-being.”

“You won’t tell him anything! Would you rather him get his information from the Prophet? That seems to be where your Charlie is getting _his_. Which may explain why Charlie told Percy that Voldemort—”

“Stop saying that name!”

“—was coming to _kill Bill_.”

Molly stopped in her tracks, suddenly pale. Ally regretted her tone a smidge but not enough to pull anymore punches. She was so tired of all these parents, with all their beautiful children, acting like idiots. This long façade of ‘mummy and daddy will take care of it’ that was putting their kids at risk.

They _should_ know, Ally thought savagely. They should know what they’re up against. The fight they may have to take up far sooner than they should. There was no better time to train them than now, putting Bill’s studies to the test and starting Charlie on his. Teach Percy and the twins how to hide, how to call for help, how to be _safe_ when the Death Eaters came through the door.

The McKinnons hadn’t done that. They’d played the charade for too long to stop. And when the Death Eaters came for them, it was Michael who died first to protect his parents, his parents who died next to protect their youngest, and Martin, who died anyway. All that bloodless horror that offended Ally with its ease. A door blown open with no lock. A hallway with no booby traps. A family sat at dinner, waiting for their daughter/sister to join them. The way Marlene had cried in the foyer of her home, underneath the Dark Mark, as her family was carted out to be buried or burned, whichever was easiest. It was blistering the cold that soaked into the house that night, but Marlene hadn’t cared; Ally had shivered all night sitting with her, Warming Charms unable to ward off the chill for too long. It was in that dark, that cold, that Ally realized the cost of silence in the face of war.

They could have lived, she thought, though she dared not voice anything of the sort. Marlene was eventually picked up by Adam Stewart, whose soft coaxing was the only thing that got Marlene up off of the floor. He didn’t even look at Ally as he led the shaking woman from the house, telling her to come to his home to sleep, they’ll come back tomorrow if she wanted, but she needed to eat, she needed to sleep, please, Marly, you’re _hurt_ , I promise whatever you want it’s yours, but you need to rest.

The McKinnon house was silent with Marlene gone. The rest of the Order had left to their other missions or to write the Potters and Longbottoms of what happened, another tally on the death sheet. Left to her devices, Ally roamed. The door was obviously unlocked, chain still on the wall and no tear through the doorframe where a bolt might’ve been ripped out.

Investigative spells triggered nothing in the corridors, nothing on the stairs. She summoned Portkeys to no avail. Apparition was difficult in panicked situations, and besides Martin and Michael weren’t of age yet. The parents were Muggle and there was no way in hell the boys would leave without them if they were anything like their sister.

The night had worn on as Ally inched over the home, testing and touching everything she could without disturbing the newly made mortuary. It was only in Marlene’s room that she found any kind of magical protection – a single Summoning Charm on the football award on the shelf. Designed, it looked like, to alert the Order to an invasion.

When asked, Adam had explained that Marlene only put a couple of protections because her parents would regularly forget what items were bewitched and which weren’t. On more than one occasion, they’d accidentally summoned Sirius and Caradoc to the home. She had told them to always lock the door, which she’d charmed to cast an Impervious spell on the doorway to prevent it being blown open. They never remembered.

“Did they know how bad it was?” Ally had asked. Adam shook his head. Another ‘protection’ for her poor Muggle parents.

Molly’s panicked breaths were nothing like Marlene’s gasping sobs, but they ignited the same indignant fury in her.

“They think h-he’ll come for B-B-Bill?”

“They don’t know shit, Molly.” Ally said, reigning in her anger poorly. “They don’t know shit because you haven’t told them. Bill is studying his protection charms but has never cast one. Do you have any protection charms in your home? Anything that your twins know to grab or any place they know to go if the Death Eaters come? Does Percy know who to call or what will summon us there? Do you even have a Summoning Charm on anything?”

“Of course!” Molly snapped, tears and fury clear on her face. “We have a S-Summoning charm on the picture of Great Aunt Muriel above the fireplace! They boys all know how to Floo!”

“Will they know how to Floo while they’re being attacked?” Ally countered.

“What do you want us to do? _Simulate_ an attack! They’re _children_.”

“They’re children in a war!”

“I won’t treat them like soldiers!” Molly yelled.

“Fine; but don’t turn them into targets!” Ally responded in kind. “They’re small and scared and they _should be_.”

Molly scoffed, swiping at her eyes, “What do you know? You don’t have children! You’ll never know what it feels like to look at your babies and wonder if you’ll live to see them grow!”

“You’re right,” Ally said. “I don’t. All I know is that your brothers are dead, and they could defend themselves. My sister could die any day and she can defend herself. I look at them and all I can see is the epitaph we’ve all picked out for our own sodding gravestones. I _can’t_ imagine what it’s like to think that about your kids. If I was you, I’d be terrified. But they need to be protected, Molly. And that may mean killing their childhood, but would you rather have a dead child or a living soldier?”

Molly threw her hands up, as if to toss this whole conversation over her shoulder into a dustbin, and spat one last, ‘ _you could never understand_ ’ before storming from the room after her children. No doubt to find Arthur and unload about how foolish and cruel Ally was.

“That was too much.” The familiar, disapproving voice of her sister carried through the room. Ally wasn’t even surprised. “You shouldn’t have mentioned Fabian and Gideon.”

Her sister was covered in soot and blood. Ally frowned, “When did you get back? Is Mattie okay? What _happened_?”

“Just Apparated back with Mattie. She’ll live. Caught in a firefight, almost literally. I need to go back and help.”

Ally started for her wand, “I’ll go too.”

“You’re injured.” Ash snapped. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Not that injured! I can help.”

“Like you just ‘helped’ Molly?”

“I don’t want Fred and George to be next.” Ally replied wearily. “I’m so tired of small coffins, Ash.”

The light green of her sister’s eyes looked almost grey in the dismal lighting. For a moment, she looked more related to Sirius than she did to Ally. With a sigh, Ash swiped at her forehead. Before she disappeared through the doorway, she turned back and said:

“Don’t make this about Andrew.”

The door closed quietly in Ally’s face. Just outside, she heard the familiar crack of Apparition, then nothing.


	9. hold tight, hold tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Halloween comes months later. Lily finally bursts.

“Are you making it about Andrew?” Shannon always knew when the cut to the bone of the issue.

Ally tipped the potion down her throat, cringing. “I don’t know; I wasn’t thinking about him when we were talking.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t about him.” Mary said, placing the fresh aconite in a stone bowl. With a delicate flick of her wrist, the pestle beside the bowl sprang into action. Mashing with vigor. “You know as well as the rest of us that stuff like that affects everything we do.”

Mary MacDonald was one of the fortunate few whose family was totally safe. Early in the war, they’d left for America with her baby sister. Even begged Mary to come with them, but Ally supposed Mary was made of something stronger than her parents. She would have to be, to survive both the war and James and Sirius’ fucking awful ‘Old MacDonald had a farm’ jokes.

“I think Ash just worries you haven’t processed it.” Shannon said sympathetically.

The headache from Travers had subsided but a new one was steadily forming. Ally put her hands over her face, rubbing. It had been three years since Andrew; when was Ash going to accept that Ally wasn’t just going to fall to pieces one day? They’d killed the man that did it, all but rent him limb from limb. It was _done_.

Revenge, it turned out, was not as sweet as comic books had made it out to be. It didn’t resurrect Andrew; it didn’t fix the yawning space in their pictures now where he used to stand between them. It didn’t stop their mum from dissolving in a bottle or their da’ from cursing the magical world with all the muster he had in him. It just _was_.

Andrew was dead.

That was it.

“Speaking of not processing,” Mary doled out flobberworms into the bowl, wiping her hands off on her apron. It was hilarious to Ally that Mary wore an apron to make Potions. “Has anyone spoken to Lily lately?”

“Not really,” Ally confessed. “I’ve been out a lot lately. Frankly, I’m half-angry that I’m awake _now_.”

“I have,” Shannon said. “I noticed she looked tired lately and when I asked her about it, she said she just wasn’t sleeping well. I offered her a Sleeping Draught to help and she turned white as a ghost and yelled. I didn’t quite make it all out, but she definitely said, ‘ _constant vigilance_ ’ once.”

“She yelled at you?” Ally asked, eyebrows rising. “Lily never yells at anyone. Except James. And Sirius. She’s sharp, but she never yells.”

“She snapped at Marlene, too.” Mary said softly.

Shannon wasn’t a gossip hound, Ally knew. But she did love a little bit of drama in the workplace. And Mary was cut from the same cloth so when Shannon asked what happened, Mary was all too happy to tell.

(Ally would never admit to wanting to know. Not out loud, at least.)

“Apparently, Marly went to see her before you and Potter left for your mission. Y’know, just to ask and see how she was doing – I guess Marlene hadn’t gone to see her in a while, probably because Voldemort attacks are still sore for her, _anyway_ – and while they were talking, Harry crawled over to Marlene, so Marlene picked him up and was playing with him. Everything _seemed_ fine until the Patronus came in to tell them about Matilda; but Lily asked for Harry back before they came down and Marlene was like, ‘ _I want to hold him’_ or however Marlene talks to babies – you ever heard her ridiculous baby voice?”

“It’s adorable.” Shannon grinned. “She sounds like a Muppet.”

“Oof, that makes me glad I’ve never heard it.” Ally laughed.

“It really does!” Mary agreed, “But anyway, when she said that, Lily apparently flipped out. Yelled at Marlene to give her Harry _now_ and Marlene, as anyone would, asked what the fuck her problem was and Lily, like, _ripped_ Harry out of her arms. Obviously, Marlene realized Lily was being a prig and panicky because of Halloween so she apologized, and they kept talking but Lily _never_ apologized for it and Marlene has felt pretty upset ever since.”

Ally sighed, “Lily never was great at apologies. She tries, but it’s a skill she just doesn’t have.”

“I’m surprised she was so callous towards Marlene, though.” Shannon mused. “Really, if I was Marlene, I’d be pretty upset too. I mean, she lost her whole family but never took it out on us.”

Mary hummed agreeably, “If I’m honest, I don’t think Marlene was telling me the whole of it, though. It doesn’t seem like her to be so upset about Lily just demanding Harry. I think she said something else.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. But it couldn’t have been good if Marly is this upset. Like you said, Lily can be sharp when she wants to be.”

“She and Potter seem to be fighting, too.” Ally said, almost to herself. “Him, Shannon, Marlene, and I heard her yell at Sirius too.”

“Like I said,” Mary said, turning the potion counterclockwise twice and setting a small timer. “Not processing.”

.

“James is helping Alice and Frank set up safety charms on their rooms,” Dorcas said, settling herself in the armchair beside Harry’s pram. “I think he thinks they don’t have the mental capacity right now to do it. He kind of just swooped in.”

Lily hummed, “I suppose while Mattie is missing, it’s the best course. Though, he’ll have to take them down again when they go back.”

“Oh, they’re not going back.” Dorcas said, tugging her hand back from Harry’s slobbering mouth. “Come now, Harry, I look like chocolate but I’m entirely human.”

Lily frowned, “They’re not going back under the Fidelius?”

Her friend shook her head, “No. I think for the same reason you guys aren’t.”

“That was Potter’s decision.” Lily said, plaiting her hair as Dorcas conjured dancing ghosts over her squealing baby.

“Back to ‘Potter’, eh?” Dorcas grinned, less a smile and more a baring of teeth. It was a face like that which melted Lily’s heart the way sunshine melted snow; she loved Dorcas like this, where there was nothing covering her. No veneer of politeness or gentleness. Dorcas Meadowes was a flood with teeth. Rushing, ruinous, indominable. “He’s doing better, by the way. Mary said he may even wake up today.”

Lily shrugged.

“By the way,” Dorcas continued. “Marlene wanted me to ask if you were okay.”

The plaiting ceased. A crease formed between Lily’s shoulders as she tensed, though Dorcas paid it no mind.

“I’m fine,” Lily said in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite. “Why?”

Dorcas reached into the crib, hardly a glance to her friend, and plucked Harry out with an affectionate coo. His hands found her hair immediately, tugging and giggling as if her hair was the most prized toy he possessed. Rather than something _Dorcas_ possessed. The tension ran long down Lily’s spine.

“Can I hold him?” Lily asked, abandoning her hair.

Dorcas didn’t look at her, “Finish your hair, precious. I’ll keep the mini-Potter entertained.”

“I’m done with my hair; I’d like to hold my son.”

“Darling, I said—”

“Give me my son, Dorcas.” Lily snapped. Until she had to look down at Dorcas, she didn’t realize she had stood up. Only, Dorcas _didn’t_ let go of her son. Her friend’s grip only tightened and so did Lily’s. The wood of her wand was teasing her on her dresser, just barely out of reach. But Lily was a girl born in a poor Irish town, who was raised in a small British town, and had more than her fair share of terrible words thrown at her. A girl like her didn’t need a wand.

A girl whose mother spent hours on Sundays making painstakingly beautiful, if meager, dinners that her da’ couldn’t ever come to because he was working. Every weekend, more work. Every week, less money. Petunia with her desperation to fit in, the practiced British accent so crisp that it cut Lily’s organs. It was so easy for Petunia to blend in: her beautiful blond hair, slim face, delicate ankles. No one looked at her and thought _bog trotter_ or _irish ape_.

Lily, on the other hand, could not hide it behind perfume or makeup. Her hair too wild, too red. Her eyes the color of every Irish field. She wore Ireland like a scar.

It was probably cruel what they’d done, her and James. Give birth to a half-Indian, half-Irish child. The unwanted and unloved spiraling through their blood, into Harry’s. Put a target on his back in both the Muggle and magical world.

Halloween taught her more lessons than just ‘be prepared for all eventualities’ – it showed her the kind of danger her family was in, her _son_ was in. The kind of danger that was all her fault. A stupid little girl getting pregnant in a war, mistaking Death Eaters for friends (two for two, she was. Severus and Peter sticking to her like sap.) Poor Harry was the victim of all her mistakes.

She had to protect him. No matter the cost.

Dorcas stood, cradling Harry as he further engrossed himself in her curls. “Don’t yell at me, Evans. Remember, I’m the only one left that even comes to visit you anymore.”

It was true and Lily didn’t care. The less people, the better. Moody was right: you can’t trust anyone.

‘ _Even Ja—_ ,’ She didn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t, more like. It would make it all too real.

“I don’t need anyone to visit me. I certainly don’t need it to be _you_.” She said sharply. “I just need you to give me my goddamn son.”

Dorcas gently set Harry back into his pram, kissing his cheek with ardor and whispering _auntie loves you, harry._ With a poisonous look back at Lily, she stormed from the room. Left alone with her son, Lily scooped him back into her arms – the only place it was truly safe – and sagged into the chair, exhausted. Tears wouldn’t come. Perhaps they’d all dried up.

“Let’s take a quick bath, hm, love?” She asked Harry, whose eyes were still fixed on the door Dorcas had closed. She kissed his cheeks, “Don’t worry, mummy is still here.”

.

“James recovered from the mission, yet?” Remus said, setting his worn-out suitcase on the bed. Caradoc Dearborn shuffled into the room after him, his bag already flung haphazardly in the room between the Potters and Sirius. It made for a decent enough strategy, he supposed. Keep all the Duelers in the first hallway; their first line of defense.

It just also meant Remus was keenly aware of how fragile they all were, five people in a hallway acting as their iron shield.

“Think so. I heard he went bonkers.” Caradoc pulled out his cigarette tin. It was probably worth more than Remus’ whole wardrobe.

Wrinkling his nose, Remus begged, “Not in here, Doc. It’ll make the whole room stink.”

Caradoc scoffed but put the tin away, “You could use a second-hand buzz, Lupin. Anything to take all that edge off of you. You’ll cut someone one of these days.”

Remus ignored him, unzipping his bag to begin putting clothes away. Headquarters had never been built to accommodate so many people, it was barely a house big enough for a small family. But magic had come a long way in terms of manipulating space, and it was sorely needed. The Potters, the Longbottoms, the two prophesied saviors of the wizarding world, and a werewolf about to transform made the impossibly small into the lap of luxury.

Molly and Arthur had been kind enough to go room by room, zapping dust and musty air away; Calypso following with fresh coats of paint. It remained one of the cleanest, nicest rooms Remus had ever stayed in. The shame of it all was that such a nice room was wasted on him. He’d spend most nights on missions, probably. And the other nights he’d be a grumpy bastard just before he became a big, hairy monster; and a weak, wimpy sod the week following. And after that, he’d be back at his small, cramped, blacklight-avoiding apartment until the next month.

“What’s going on behind that mug of yours?” Caradoc asked.

He wanted to say, _I want to disappear_.

He wanted to say, _I don’t deserve this._

He wanted to say, _kill me before the war does._

“Someone should tell Lily about it.” Remus said, instead.

“Not sure Evans would care.” Caradoc said. It was times like this Remus wished Sirius wasn’t on a mission. Sirius would know what to say. And it wasn’t that. The brilliance of instant-dry paint revealed itself as he immediately leaned against the doorframe. “She’s half-strung out, half-bitchy, half-helicopter mum.”

“Have you ever taken a maths class?”

Caradoc flipped him off “Point is, she’s hovering over the kid and being a cunt to everyone else. She told the ginger medic to ‘fuck off’ when she offered a Sleeping Draught. Called Marlene a bitch for asking after her. I mean, really you’re probably next.”

“She and James have been fighting too, I heard.”

“Mare said that too. Says something about it being like Fifth Year, whatever the fuck that means.”

“How much like Fifth Year?” Screaming in the hallways, on the train, in the Common Room. James’ voice _I don’t want to fight anymore, Evans_! Lily’s response: _fuck you, Potter_!

Caradoc didn’t look at him, “You’d be a better judge of that. Mary just said it’s exactly like Fifth Year.”

(Her hollow voice, _how can you stand him?_

His response, _he’s really not so bad when you get to know him._ )

“Funny how much changed,” Remus said softly. “Fifth Year Lily…to Seventh Year Lily.”

(Lily beside him on the grass, _I know you’re a werewolf, Remus._

Her green eyes as she assured him his secret was safe, that he was safe. She still loved him. She still wanted to be his friend. How miraculous it must’ve been, for something like him to find so many loyal friends.)

Caradoc hummed quietly, “Seems we’ve all changed.”

(Lily touching his shoulder in the Library, smiling as she hands him his finished Charms work.

Lily pushing chocolate into his hands in the hallway just before the moon rises.

Lily’s apple eyes as she smiled, _you’re one of my best friends_ )

Down the hall, a door slammed. Remus didn’t see who it was that surged past the room, but he could smell it: the fresh linen and hair wax that Dorcas used mixed with salt.

“Holy shit,” Caradoc said, eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “She must’ve said something really shitty to make _Meadowes_ cry.”

Remus’ face was practically burning, “That’s _it_.”

(He wanted that Lily back.)

.

Harry was freshly bathed in his mother’s arms, cooing as she settled him onto the changing table. It was meant to be a quiet moment between mother and son, one where the father was gone somewhere but soon to be back. The kind of moment they might have had at Godric’s Hollow.

But the door opened, and it was not James returning to scoop them up in his arms.

“Lily, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Remus asked. His tone was sharp; the kind of unpleasant borne from burying frustration for too long. It was moments like these where it was obvious how much Sirius and Remus had rubbed off on each other.

“What do you mean?” Lily refused to look at him, folding Harry into his onesie with unparalleled focus.

Remus came to stand by her side, taking her hands off of Harry. Fury lashed against her ribs: she was Harry’s _mother_ and how _dare_ he take her hands off of him? She wanted to scream but she didn’t. Jerking her hands back, she resumed her business adjusting Harry’s outfit.

This time when Remus spoke it was stern, “Lily, you have to deal with this.”

“With _what_? Honestly, Remus, you’re so cryptic.” She said tightly.

“You and James and Harry nearly died two months ago,” said Remus like she didn’t know, like she wasn’t there, running and screaming and _avada kedavra_ so close she could taste the grave already. Like she didn’t have James’ arm around her and all she was thinking of was Sirius’ kisses on her forehead and Remus’ soft jumper under her cheek and flour in Peter’s hair and James with terror in his teeth and fourth-year charms with Dorcas and Marlene’s fingers in hers and Ally’s laugh and _not without you_.

Instead, “I’m aware.”

“But you haven’t reacted at all.” Remus continued. “James has been out on missions like a madman but I’d rather you be acting as reckless as he is than whatever the fuck this is.”

“First of all, what the fuck do you mean by ‘this’ and second, _what_ has James been doing?”

“You’re a goddamn poltergeist,” Remus snapped. “Haunting this place like you haven’t been sleeping or eating and I’m almost damn sure you haven’t been – or, if you have, no one has _seen_ you do it – and you won’t even let anyone else touch Harry.”

“I’m _sorry_ if I haven’t been a crying mess,” Lily snapped back. “Next time, I’ll be sure to ask you for advice on how to emotionally handle my problems since you’re apparently the fucking _poster child_.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, fuck off, Remus. I’m not sure a bloke that spent twelve years wallowing in self-hatred has any right to tell me how to handle my emotions.”

Remus bristled. “I’m not getting sucked into an argument with you, Lily. Get your shit together.”

“Or what?”

“You’ll just waste away. And you’ll have to do it knowing you could have had help, but you alienated everyone that loves you.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Lily to stare at Harry. His small hands reached up towards her, wiggling his fingers until she bent down to kiss him.

 _When did it become this?_ , she wondered. She did not remember the moment her memories had run cold, when her blood rushed at every door opening or closing. She did not remember when she became a victim to this forever unease that sat in the struts of her ribs.

Only that one day she woke and found herself drowning.

But she was a witch of the Order and the wife of a man that needed her strength and the mother of a small child that would not understand why mummy could not stop crying. She could not scream or beat her fists upon the walls for her family almost shut up into lightless stone in some dank, dark cemetery somewhere.

The thing in her head was safer for her – for everyone – to ignore.

Of all people, she had expected Remus to understand.

.

James did not return to bed until morning. He looked no worse for wear than usual, despite being unconscious for twenty-four hours, the bruises under his eyes maybe more pronounced. It was early in the morning – too early for any words – and Lily turned over in bed before he could try to kiss her. Except James did not try to kiss her. In fact, they hadn’t kissed in several weeks. The habit had been bled out of them.

But nothing could undo the knowledge James had about her body. Her forced breathing did not fool him. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” She replied. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.”

“How was it?”

“Didn’t Remus tell you?”

“Only that you were unconscious after collecting aconite.”

“You didn’t talk to Ally?”

“No.”

“We got ambushed by Death Eaters. Killed two of them but Travers got away. No Muggles died.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“You still in pain?”

“No. Just some bruises.”

She paused. “Remus said you were running around like a madman.”

“Moony should shut up.” James said evenly. Maybe that was what undid her. The casual way he talked about hiding his recklessness; the casual brotherhood that sat between him and Remus and Sirius as a vault full of their secrets. Secrets she was not allowed to know.

“Probably.” She said tightly, pushing the covers off and crossing the room to get dressed. Haste made her hands fumble and her eyes unfocused – a cream sweater and plaid skirt were not combat ready.

James sat up, visibly weary in more ways than one. “Are you mad at me, Evans?”

“Of course not, Potter.” It sounded as insincere as it was. “Should I be mad at you?”

“I don’t think so.” James replied. “But that’s never stopped you before.”

Normally, she might have laughed at that. He knew it too. This was a test. If she laughed, she was not mad.

She did not laugh.

Frustrated, she slammed the drawer shut. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.” He shot back. “I know you, Evans. I know when you’re mad.”

She went up like flint. “Well, I’m so _sodding glad_ you know me so well, Potter. Really! It’s a fucking _miracle_ you know anything at all considering you haven’t been _home_ in an age!”

She did not mean in the house or in the bed, not really. He did not understand. There was a whole of a sundering sea between them.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m home every night!” He snapped. “And it isn’t as if I can stop going out on missions.”

“No, certainly not. Can’t have the Great James Potter sitting at home with his _son_ and _wife_.” Lily whirled around. “Not when there’s _glory_ to be gained!”

“Fucking hell, it isn’t about _glory_ and you know it! Muggles are _defenseless_.”

Lily scoffed cruelly. “You’re right. Protect them but leave _us_ here alone. Good plan. What if that’s what happened that night, hm? You, off on your raid, and _me_ alone with Harry while _our_ house is being torn apart!”

“Merlin, Evans, I knew you were emotionally constipated but this is ridiculous.” James yelled. “You can’t _guilt_ me into fighting with you!”

“I am not emotionally constipated!” She screamed. “Why the fuck is everyone on me about that?”

“Because it’s fucking _true_ maybe? Putting your parents under the Fidelius and making _Dorcas_ the Secret Keeper! Pretending you’re okay with your sister un-inviting you from her wedding last year! And now, using that night in a fight? Why can’t you just process things like a normal fucking person?”

“Just because I don’t want to bitch about it happening doesn’t mean I’m not affected, Potter! At least I’m not running through missions like I’m fucking _trying_ to get killed; apparently, I’m the only one that cares if Harry grows up an orphan!”

James’ face shuttered closed. There were things Lily knew she shouldn’t say – a long list of things that would do irreparable damage to their relationship. Things about Peter and James’ family and his love.

That was, absolutely, one of them.

Her pride smothered the apology in the back of her throat, leaving them facing each other, silence hanging between them like a noose.

Lily did the only thing she could think of: she ran.

Out the door, down the hall, and outside. She ignored Shannon’s calls (the only person in the house that bothered to yell for her, she thought dismally though she passed most of them; she couldn’t blame them for not worrying, Remus was right. She’d fractured every relationship she had over the past two months.) and Apparated as soon as she was outside the reach of the wards.

Little Whinging hadn’t changed since the last time Lily was there. The town was still buzzing with people, children running wild around the legs of haggard looking adults. Privet Drive had changed even less. The houses stood in long rows, neatly trimmed lawns reaching as far as the eye went, and lines of white picket fences. No one gave her a second look as she walked down the street except an older woman from her porch who made a snide comment about the Irish under her breath, but that was easily ignored.

Number 4 Privet Drive did not stand out in any discernable way and Lily was sure if she were to go inside, the walls and carpet would be the same shade of beige as Petunia’s personality. The garden outside looked maintained but not loved, like Petunia only managed it to keep it from drawing attention. Which was a shame since Lily knew how Tuney loved peonies.

Too messy for a front lawn, though. Petunia didn’t like messes.

Even the Christmas decorations were stale. The kind from the front of a home magazine. Lily would bet her wand if she held up the latest issue of _Home & Garden_, Petunia’s home would be a mirror image.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood in front of the house, but it must have been a while because eventually the door opened to reveal Petunia standing in a pale pink dress and white apron. Her arms were crossed, and her tongue was as sharp as ever.

“Would you get inside before you draw anymore unneeded attention.” Petunia hissed quietly. Lily’s feet carried her forward without thinking until the door was being closed behind her, Petunia peeking through the crack to make sure no one saw Lily enter.

At the sound of laughter, Petunia whipped around to see her sister nearly in tears. “What on earth are you laughing like that for?”

“The walls,” Lily gasped for air but unable to catch her breath. Petunia looked at her plain, beige walls as if they had sprouted eyes.

“What on Earth about them?” Petunia’s voice raised an octave. “Or do you freaks not have walls?”

Lily’s laughs quieted slowly as her sister sniffed haughtily. “You’re lucky Vernon is out with Dudley, otherwise I never would have let you in.”

“Thanks, Tuney.” Lily said softly. “Can I sit down?”

“You absolutely may _not_ ,” Petunia’s pursed face pinched further at the thought of her freak sister touching any furniture in her house. Lily couldn’t say she was surprised. “Now, what do you want? If it’s money, you can forget it.”

“We’ve plenty of money,” Lily couldn’t resist needling her sister a little.

As anticipated, Petunia’s face went a shade whiter. Her voice was a deadly hiss, “Then _what_?”

That was a good question. Honestly, Lily didn’t know what she wanted. Or why she’d even showed up here. It was just that everything was falling apart back home (because the wizarding world _was_ home, maybe it had always been, and that was the crime Petunia could never forgive) and she just wanted stability. Even if the stability was her sister’s wrath.

“I wrote you a letter about—”

“Yes, I received it.”

“But you – you didn’t read it?”

“Of course not! I can’t be seen taking post from an _owl_ of all things. I shooed it away immediately and the blasted thing dropped the letter in the garden. It’s still out there if the rain hasn’t turned it to mush.”

“I…” It wasn’t a surprise that Petunia hadn’t read it. It hurt, but it didn’t surprise her. “I was almost killed a few months ago.”

Petunia’s face didn’t change. “How?”

“There’s – it’s complicated, Tuney but – there’s this war and my son – did I tell you? I have a son now, his name is Harry – and apparently he’s part of some prophecy so this dark wizard—erm, terrorist – came after us and nearly killed us.”

Her sister’s eyes looked right through her. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me or why you wrote me in the first place. I thought I made my feelings about our relationship perfectly clear in my last letter.”

‘ _Don’t ever contact me_.’ Lily remembered. Petunia’s penmanship had always outpaced her own, all swirly loops and perfect form while Lily’s came out more as a messy scrawl, as if every time she was writing it was during a foot race.

“I know, I just…” She trailed off, taking a shuddering breath. “I’m scared, Tuney. I’m scared of losing my family and my friends. I’m scared of dying.”

Petunia was silent, still not looking at Lily. It was as if she was doing her best to see past Lily, to see past this thing that ties her to her sister, to a future where Lily no longer was in her life. It’s cruel, Lily thought, to love someone so much that even being hurt by them was better than not having them.

(Suddenly, James made so much more sense to her.)

Lily wasn’t sure if Petunia still felt it. This golden threat strung between the struts of their ribs, tangled in the veins of their hearts; the tugging so strong that it vibrated in the back of her teeth, calling her towards her sister. It might have been that Petunia had cut hers a long time ago, that Lily was alone in this love, stranded as if on a desert island watching her sister drift away.

It would be fitting.

“I mean, it’s scary, you know. It’s…I already lost you and mum and da’ and I don’t want to lose them. It’s—it’s hard to sleep knowing any day, any _second_ , they could…” The end of the sentence wouldn’t come.

Tears began to fall without her consent. The world tunneled as her chest burned for lack of oxygen. Her breathing became hard and harsh, trying to suck in air through a straw would have been easier. Her heart raced, punching at her ribs in an escape attempt and she was suffocating, she was _suffocating_ – she was going to die here with this beige wall and her beige sister and her family so many miles away probably not even _worrying_ about her and her body was here, and her heart was at HQ, but her mind was back in that closet, back in that small space full of _please not harry please have mercy have mercy my family my baby my husband my world entire_

It was the bitter taste of Petunia’s fingers pushing into her mouth, forcing her tongue and jaw down so she could breathe, that brought Lily back. They were crumpled on the floor, Lily half on Petunia’s lap as her sister looked alarmed above her.

“Lily, what the _fuck_?” Petunia asked desperately.

Lily began to cry again. Petunia had called her Lily.

“Get up, here, get up, pet,” Petunia ushered her to the couch, laying her down with one hand smoothing over her forehead. “Have a lie down, here. Let me get you a cool cloth.”

Before Petunia could leave again, Lily grabbed her wrist, gasping out, “Tuney, Tuney, I’m _sorry_ , I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, I love you, I promise, I do, I’m so s—”

“Hush now.” Petunia said but her face did not look quite so severe. “Let me get you a cool cloth, silly girl.”

After a few moments under a cool cloth, she felt mostly human again. Petunia sat in the chair across from her, fingers folded neatly in her lap. Lily sat up on the couch, clutching the rag in her hands. Her throat burned and her eyes were still swollen but the crevice in her chest closed incrementally.

“I’m sorry I showed up out of nowhere.” She rasped.

Petunia considered her for a moment. “You’ve been saying that a lot, lately.”

Lily didn’t laugh. “Not enough. I…I really am sorry, though. Not for Hogwarts or magic, but for leaving you when you needed me. For not trying harder when we were growing up.”

Petunia didn’t forgive her; Lily didn’t expect her to. But when she spoke it was softer than it would have been before.

“You should go. Vernon and Dudley will be home soon.”

“One day, Harry and Dudley should meet.” Lily suggested quietly. “I’d like to meet your Dudley. And I think you’d like my Harry.”

Her sister didn’t speak as she helped Lily off the couch and towards the door. Pressing the cloth into Petunia’s hand, Lily gripped her fingers. “Thanks, Tuney.”

Petunia looked down at their hands. Then, softly, “I’m glad you’re not dead, Lily.”

Lily chest clenched as she stepped out of the house and back to the street. It was a lovely, normal street with a park down the way and an expensive looking black car pulling around the corner. Lily watched from slightly down the other side of the street as Vernon pushed himself out of the car before going in the backseat and pulling a smaller, but just as round, boy from his car seat.

Petunia met them at the door, looking for all the world like she hadn’t just soothed her estranged sister during a massive panic attack. She kissed Vernon and Dudley as they stepped through the door, a contented smile on her face.

As much as it pained Lily not to be a part of it, Petunia had built a home. A family.

Now, it was time for Lily to return to hers.

.

It was Dorcas at the door when Lily arrived. Her slate eyes were burning as she crossed down the path to meet in the middle. When they were finally facing each other, Dorcas swung. The sensation of a fist against her cheek was not foreign to Lily, though the surprise made it sting far more. If anyone was going to hit her, frankly she thought it ought to be James or Remus for it to be true retribution. Though, after that last fight, she supposed Dorcas was owed a blow or two, as well. As it was, she was content to take it. To simply to lay there, staring up at the sun as it re-emerged from behind a throng of clouds, her cheek throbbing.

“You’re a cunt.” Dorcas snapped.

Lily looked back, sunspots prickling over Dorcas’ face. The grass was cold under her, snow crunching as she pushed herself back up to her arms.

“I know.”

“You’ve got all that aftershock shit and you’re marching about acting like a prick – which is bad enough – but to fucking _vanish_? Do you have any clue how selfish that was?” Dorcas was not done, clearly ignoring Lily’s quiet acceptance.

“I know.” Lily repeated, back on her knees. The skin burned with how cold they were, bare against the slush.

Dorcas looked down at her, curls in wild disarray. Lily met her eyes, the bitter taste of Petunia’s fingers still on the back of her tongue.

“I almost lost you once.” Dorcas said venomously. “You _swore_ you wouldn’t do that to me again.”

Then, so suddenly that Lily recoiled, Dorcas was on her knees in front of Lily, gathering her into another hug. The two women stayed there, tangled in each other while another flurry of snow began.

“I’m sorry,” Lily murmured, “I’m so sorry, Dorcas.”

“Don’t _go_.” Dorcas demanded. “Don’t…please…”

Lily gripped her friend as a lifeline, tears freezing against her cheeks. When had Dorcas gotten so thin? So scared? How much had she missed, trapped in her fog, unable to see the world outside?

She’d been so terrified of nearly dying that she’d died anyway. Shut herself up into a coffin of her own making, just waiting for her body to catch up. Grief seized up inside of her, strangling a sob from her throat. Dorcas’ grip tightened.

“I love you,” Lily wept. “I love you, Dorcas.”

Maybe Petunia had been right. Maybe James had been too. She had spent so many years building up her strengths, perfecting her charms, sharpening her love into a fine weapon and weaving affection into the perfect blanket for the shoulders of everyone else. Completely ignoring her weaknesses, shutting them out as one might shut out a stray beast. But she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t ignore it. She had to meet it head on; polish them as much as she polished her better attributes until they became well-maintained. Managed. Orderly. Treated her flaws as Petunia treated her yard.

Perhaps Remus _had_ understood how Lily felt about the thing in her head.

Perhaps it was _her_ that needed a lesson.

Eventually, Dorcas helped a weak-kneed Lily to her feet. She cast a Warming charm to them both, leading her towards the door of the Cottage, where an obviously frantic James paced. Dorcas squeezed Lily’s hand once before excusing herself to the kitchen to put together a cup of warm tea for her friend.

She expected James to be furious. To rant and rave; none of which she wouldn’t have deserved. The trouble with being married to him, however, was that Lily had never learned the one lesson that must always be taught when interacting with James Potter:

Except the unexpected.

“Oh, thank Merlin.” James breathed, rushing towards her. His long arms wound around her so tight her ribs shifted in place. “You’re alive.”

Lily grasped the back of his shirt, digging her head into his chest as if to make a new home between his lungs. No Warming charm in the world could mimic the heat her husband exuded.

“ _James_ ,” She sighed. Then, tighter, “I’m so sorry, Jim. I’m so—I’m—”

“Don’t go outside again, please. Please just…just send me a Patronus.” James cut her off. He ran a hand down her cheek, stroking the arch of her brow with his thumb. “I would have come. Fight or not, I would have come. You didn’t—don’t go outside.”

“I know you would have come,” She said softly. “I was too far away, though.”

“There’s nowhere near this house too—”

“I wasn’t near this house. I Apparated away. To Little Whinging.”

“Alone?” James’ voice was pained. “Lily, it’s not _safe_.”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “I know, I’m sorry. I just…had to get away.”

James sighed against her skin, when she removed her hand, he said, “I’m glad you’re okay, but please don’t do that again. Next time we fight you can just hit me or break something, but please don’t leave.”

“It wasn’t the fight.” Lily said. “Well, it was, sort of. I was just…you were right, I hadn’t processed the attack. I was pretending to be okay because that’s what I thought you needed but I realize that was stupid.”

“Very.” James agreed. “We’re a team, you daft bird. That means we deal with what happens to us together.”

“I know. And I—I’m sorry for what I said about Harry. You’re a wonderful father and husband and I love you very much.” She said, feeling very raw.

James pulled her into a hug. The smell of his detergent mixed with his skin relaxed her as she held onto him. He was murmuring something into her hair that sounded honeyed, but Lily couldn’t make it out through the drowsiness.

After a moment, Sirius’ head poked into the room, “Is Saint back to normal?”

Remus’ strained voice, “ _Sirius_!”

“What? I’m just trying to read the room.”

“I didn’t know you were literate.” Lily said, so full of love she felt she might burst. These were her boys. “I didn’t know you were _here_! When did you get back?”

“Just in time to hear the good news, Saint!” Sirius cheered, pushing all the way into the room. “You’re not a cunt anymore!”

Remus dragged himself in after Sirius, harrowed by the antics. “You are the worst spy in the world.”

Lily stood out of James’ arms, walking over to the exhausted man and pulled him into a hug. Remus smiled into her temple.

With a swift kiss to his cheek, Lily murmured, “Thank you for saving me.”

“You saved yourself.” He replied, just as quietly.

Her smile was beatific, “No one saves themselves, love. We all need other people’s strength to give us our own. You gave me yours. So, shut up and accept my thanks, arsehole.”

Sirius, unhappy at being ignored for so long, launched himself at Lily. “Give me a hug too, you swot!”

The couch was less comfortable than she would have preferred, being squished between its lumpy cushions and Sirius’ lumpy body. He smothered her in a hug as she laughed. It grew less and less funny the longer it went on.

“Potter, get your wife off of me.” Lily said, prone underneath Sirius’ weight. “Where is Harry? Where is Mattie, for that matter?”

“Harry is with Alice, love. Mattie is in with Mary. As for my wife, you should keep him.” James grinned, “And make sure you walk him, he tears up the furniture if you don’t.”

Lily pushed against Sirius, “Potter! Get him off!”

“Such _language_! I prefer to call it ‘bringing him to climax’.” James couldn’t help but laugh.

“James!” Lily shrieked, unable to contain her grin. “He’s heavy!”

“Oi,” Sirius protested, “I’ll have you know I’m quite fit. Ask anyone!”

“Sirius Orion Black, if you don’t get off of me this instant, I’ll tell James about what we did Fourth Year.” Lily threatened. Sirius blinked owlishly.

James cleared his throat, mirth suddenly gone. A dangerous glint behind his glasses. “And exactly _what_ did you do with my wife, Padfoot?”

“Nothing! Prongs, I swear I wouldn’t—”

Just then, James leapt at Sirius who scrambled off of Lily and took off with James as his shadow. Remus howled with laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. It took years off of him, Lily thought. For a moment, he looked like the young boy she remembered from Hogwarts – weighed down but not drowning.

A boy for whom the biggest problem was the monster in his chest. Not the monsters outside of it.

“What did you guys do?” Remus asked, wiping his face.

Lily smirked, “Nothing.”

It was worth James’ betrayed face later that night to see Remus break into laughter again.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just tinkering around with this idea, frankly. I have a few chapters cobbled together but we'll see if it goes anywhere.


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